


Slivers of Hope

by VictimofNostalgia



Series: The Horseman and the Survivor [1]
Category: Darksiders (Video Games)
Genre: Apocalypse Survivor, Friendship, Takes place mid-Darksiders 2
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-11-30
Updated: 2015-11-30
Packaged: 2018-05-04 05:18:43
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence
Chapters: 11
Words: 26,836
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/5321897
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/VictimofNostalgia/pseuds/VictimofNostalgia
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Death is beginning to lose hope when he seems no further to clearing his brother's name. In the broken shell of one of Earth's city, Death stumbles upon a sole survivor of the Human Race and for once he's willing to give hope a try. This takes place mid Darksiders 2.</p><p>Also on fanfiction.net: https://www.fanfiction.net/s/10998960/1/Slivers-of-Hope</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Chapter 1

 

Death ripped the point of a scythe from the flesh of a fallen undead. The cry of a Suffering pierced the stagnant air and the remaining corpses of the Swarm fled from Death at the call of their master. He sighed heavily, hanging the duel scythes at his sides. The unending Swarm was slowing him down, the pieces of the Rod of Arafel still lost among the ruins of the Third Kingdom. Dust cawed to him from a distant streetlight and Death turned, fighting back his mounting frustration. _The Rod first,_ he chided himself.

The clattering of loose stone was loud in the sudden silence. Nerves still on edge from the battle, the rider turned, weapons in hand, in time to see a small shape frozen among the debris. Though its details were hidden behind the city’s perpetual haze, Death felt eyes locked with his own. A heartbeat passed before the figure bolted like a startled animal. Not wanting to risk what was potentially a scout escape to bring the horde down upon him again, Death bounded after it, moving fluidly over the debris covered streets, swiftly gaining. His own ease contrasted greatly with his prey who seemed to lack the alien animalistic grace of the fallen horde; in fact, it moved with ungainly desperation, tripping over cracks in the hot tarmac, just barely maintaining its footing. Strange.

Finally, with a shriek, it tumbled and hit the ground hard, skidding to a stop to lie still. Curious now more than cautious Death slowed his gait. The figure was a little blotch of black against the ground, curled in on itself as it recovered from its fall. Hearing the heavy tread of the rider, it flinched and stumbled, trying to regain its feet. The rider got there first, stooping down and wrapping bony fingers around a cloth collar. It let out a rough, though distinctly feminine scream as it was lifted effortlessly off the ground.

Death’s eyes widened ever so slightly at the young human girl that squirmed in his grasp. She was small, probably just out of her teens, her feet dangling a good foot and a half above the ground. Eyes were wide with primal fear in a thin dirty face framed by short unkempt brown hair. Her fingers tugged at the front of her black jacket, desperately trying to keep the zipper from digging into her throat as she twisted in an attempt to break free. “Well, what have we here?” he pondered as the girl wriggled and kicked, breath heaving around a snarl.

The sound of moving metal made her freeze, her eyes growing wide at the sight of the wickedly curved blade being brought about, slowly and deliberately, and squeezed them shut as it came at her, offering a last silent curse. The pain of the blade ripping into her never came, but instead she heard the guttural screams of one of the Swarm and felt hot blood splash against her back. She peeked a lid open to see one of the muscled arms of her captor reaching behind her, the hand gripping the shaft of a short scythe whose blade protruded from the neck of the undead behind her.

Death yanked back, tearing the blade from undead flesh. He had just heard the click of a loaded gun when the head of yet another one of the Swarm exploded just behind his shoulder. The girl, still hanging from his grasp, held her collar back with one hand and held a smoking handgun in the other. They locked gazes. Her eyes, a light watery blue, were flinty just as much as they were frightened, tempered like steel. They were the eyes of a survivor.

“Put me down,” it took the rider just a moment to realize that the quiet reedy voice came from the girl. She seemed to have recovered from her shock and was now staring with a rather annoyed expression.

“I hardly think you’re in a position to be making demands,” he replied, fighting back the temptation to give her a good shake. She gaze darted to the gap between the ground and her feet, then up and down the street, then back at him.

“Well, are you gonna kill me, or not?” she shifted uncomfortably, doing her best to keep the zipper at bay, “Cus if you’re not, than I’d _appreciate_ it if you put me down.”

Huh, plucky. She yelped as she was unexpectedly dropped from his bony fingers and landed on her backside. Feeling his eyes on her, the girl rose and backed away slowly, cautiously, only turning her back on him long enough to pry an old hunting rifle from where it had become wedged beneath the debris from her tumble. She didn’t stop moving away as she slung it over her shoulder, keeping the rider under a suspicious eye. Death watched her back but didn’t make a move; it was obvious she was skittish and if her presence meant what he thought it did, he didn’t want to make an enemy of her.

The air itself shook as a monstrous roar reverberated off the buildings. The girl froze, eyes sweeping the ruined landscape. She held her breath in the silence that followed, slowly fitting another clip into her handgun, her mouth moving as she silently counted. _1, 2, 3, 4_ \- Again, the cry pierced the air; its source the enormous four-armed demon that leapt from rooftop to rooftop. “Shit,” she cursed under her breath. Death saw her tense to flee again and moved first, grabbing hold of the back of her jacket. She tried and failed to shake off his hand and glowered at him, lip pulling into a snarl and fingers tightening around her weapon. “What do you want?! Just leave me alone already!” she spat. He was silent, analyzing her with intense eyes.

She was really rather tiny, short enough to only just crest his elbow and skinny as a stray dog. She was covered in dust and grime and appeared gaunt and sleep deprived, if the thin face and shadowed eyes were any evidence. She resembled a frightened animal, a deer caught in the headlights. Death could hardly believe it, was certain he should not believe it given the circumstances, but here it was: true evidence of his brother’s innocence. She fidgeted beneath his gaze, casting glances over her shoulder for potential threats. _How long has she been here?_ Death could not help but ponder. “You are truly human…” he said in a slow voice, more a confirmation that a question. Her face twisted into a disgruntled expression.

“Of course I am,” she snapped, voice tight as a steel wire, “do I _look_ like one of those walking meat puppets to you?”

“I was led to believe that humans were annihilated.”

“Well, hate to disappoint you, but here I am,” she twitched again, ready to bolt at the slightest shadow, already hearing the screams of the Swarm ringing in her ears, “but I’m not going to be for much longer if you don’t let me go!”

But he couldn’t just let her go, could he? This one girl could potentially help to prove his brother’s innocence, but already her life, and his hope, was in danger. Another roar rent the air, much closer than before, startling Death from his contemplations and allowing her to break free. Already the girl had bolted past him as the screams of the Swarm quickly escalated. Making a split-second decision, Death took off after her, easily catching up and matching her pace. She gave him an irritated glance and looked over her shoulder to see the Swarm rapidly gaining. She swore sharply, ripped open a pouch on her hip. She hooked her finger into the ring of a grenade, yanked it out and threw it over her shoulder. Death continued to follow her as she skidded across the pavement and took a turn into an alley and hopped the chain link fence. An explosion shook the street behind them and the Swarm screamed in pain and frustration, no doubt having lost their quarry in the ensuing dust cloud.

Death looked back and found the girl gone. Walking out into the street, he kept his senses open for the small human. His ears caught a long stream of cursing coming from nearby and followed it until he spotted the girl sitting against a wall inside of an abandoned storefront. She was rifling through her bag with angry movements, muttering something about wasted ammunition and worthless undead. Her head snapped up at the sound of breaking glass. “Goddammit!” she seethed as Death stepped through the shattered window, “Why are you following me?!”

“I have a proposition to make,” he said, un-phased by the feral snarl from the girl as he stepped further into the shop, “you seem to know this city rather well and I am looking for something. Assist me and I can protect you from the Swarm.” The girl snorted, swiftly returning the supplies to her bag, and rose swinging the rifle back over her shoulder.

“Sorry, but I'm not quite desperate enough to start making deals with demons,” she spat as she swept past him and vaulted through the broken window. Death hadn’t been expecting her to comply that easily.

“And if I were to tell you I’m not a demon?” she looked him up and down, taking in the skull shaped mask and the large blades at his sides.

“Really?” she said blandly. “All this,” she gestured vaguely at him, “isn't doing a lot to convince me otherwise.

“Besides,” she shrugged, “even if you weren’t, it doesn’t mean you won’t try to kill me. You may not have the first time, but I’m not pushing my luck.” She huffed and turned her back on him. “Now quit bothering me. I don't need your help.”

“You say that now,” he said even as she continued at an even pace away from him. “But what about when the Swarm eventually catches you and strips the flesh from your bones.”

She tried to hold back a wince, but Death saw the minute twitch of her shoulders. Still, she recovered soon enough and kept walking. The Horseman followed behind, determined not to lose her.

“If they catch me, they catch me,” she replied, though the shake in her voice was easy to catch. “And if they do, Hell, I think I've had a pretty good run.”

“You'd let the last of Humanity die like vermin in a bloody gutter?” he after her. “Will this be the legacy of your people, hunted like animals to the very last?”

She stopped, whipping her head around to pin him with fury in her eyes, face red with rage.

“What do you care?” she asked sharply. “Isn't that all we are to you anyway? We didn't _ask_ for this but it happened anyway and now there's nothing left! What would be the point in me living when everyone else is already dead?”

“Because this doesn't have to be the end,” he told her, taking a cautious step. “This war, this Apocalypse happened because someone got impatient and broke the rules. Mankind just got caught in the crossfire. It wasn't their time.”

The girl's eyes narrowed, saying nothing, but neither had she moved. He had her attention now. He took a few more steps, arms crossing over his chest as he met her gaze. “Things need to be set right, and I just to happen to have a personal stake in making sure that happens.”

Her jaw worked for a moment, chewing on his words. “What are you saying?” she said, clearly skeptical.

“I'm saying that Humanity isn't going to stay dead. Not if I have anything to say about it.”

She started, taking a step back, naked astonishment on her face before she reined it in. “You're lying,” she growled, but a tentative hope had already taken root in her eyes.

“Don't believe me if that makes you feel better,” he shot back, beginning to feel his patience wane. “But a method exists and I'm close to finding it. Only a few tasks stand in my way, one of which will probably go a lot faster if you accept my offer.”

The girl didn’t answer, but the red had faded from her face and her eyes fixed on a point somewhere over his shoulder. She seemed to be weighing her options, between running on her until the Swarm inevitably caught up to her, or teaming up with a complete stranger who promised an impossible miracle. When enough time had passed and Death was about to speak again her gaze snapped back to him, narrowed with distrust and distaste. She took a breath.

“…Fine,” she conceded with reluctance. “Don't think that this means I trust you. First sign that your lying to me and I'm gone, you got that?”

“Loud and clear,” he told her. “If I'm being honest I'd be suspicious if you _didn't_ distrust me. At least I know your survival instincts are still intact.”

She snorted. “What is it that you’re looking for exactly?”

“I’m looking for an artifact of angelic origin. It’s been shattered into three pieces, being used as power sources for the demons. Know of them?” The girl listened carefully, raising a hand to bite on ruined nails as she thought.

“Yeah,” she began slowly, “I think I might know what you’re talking about.” She turned her back on him to walk to the middle of the street. Bringing her hands to her eyes to shield them from the intense sunlight, she turned in a circle trying to get her bearings. With a curt nod she gestured him over. “If I remember correctly, there was one tucked away in a back alley on the Lower East Side,” she stretched out an arm and pointed to a gap in the buildings that offered a view of the blackened ocean, “the Brooklyn Bridge is over there which means we need to head east toward the water. I’ll take a guess and say that there will be more demons the closer we get.”

Death nodded. “Most likely they will be heavily guarded. However, lucky for us, demons are not known for their tactfulness. It should be easy enough to clear them out.”

He could feel her watching him as she took the lead, ensuring that there was a good five feet of space between them, running eyes across piece meal armor and the jagged edges of the twin scythes. Her apprehension was palpable. Death wondered how long it would take for her to trust him enough to stop staring

It was awkwardly silent for a long time as they began their trek across the city, until a loud squawk announced Dust’s return, dropping from the sky to settle on Death’s shoulder. “And where have _you_ been?” Death shot at him. The enormous crow ignored him to preen the feathers of his wing. His sudden appearance had made the girl jump, and she surveyed the new arrival with a mix of alarm and anxiety.

“…Who’s your friend?” she asked nervously as the bird stopped his grooming and fixed her with a beady black stare. Death noted her expression with a degree of amusement.

“This is Dust,” he answered, “don’t mind him, he’s really quite harmless.”

“…I think he’s glaring at me.”

Indeed, the big black bird almost appeared to glower at the girl, beady eyes narrowed. Death gave a hollow laugh.

“I think he’s afraid that you’re going to shoot him,” he replied and Dust gave a raspy croak as if in confirmation.

“I won’t… unless he gives me a reason to,” she said as she readjusted the rifle on her shoulder. Dust puffed up at the gestured and flapped to Death’s other shoulder, putting his master’s head between his own and the barrel of the girl’s gun. “ _Coward_ ,” she mumbled under her breath.

“So who are you anyway?” she asked loud enough for him to hear, “You say you’re not a demon, not that I’m convinced, but if you’re not than what am I supposed to call you?”

Death hesitated. He knew that eventually she would have to know the most of the story if he wished to elicit her help. Finally he spoke; “I am Death,” the girl nearly tripped, only to regain her footing and keep walking, if not a little further away from him than before. “And I am something far older and world-weary than you. Not angel nor demon, but some combination of the two. Nephilim is what we were called, though the name isn't favored much these days,” he added, tone dry as age-old bones.

When the girl was silent, he spoke again, “You know, when people introduce themselves, it’s polite to do the same.” She merely scoffed and gave him a humorless grin.

“Yeah right,” she said, “sorry, but I’ve heard the stories about what happens when you give your name to demons” Death shrugged, the motion earning him a squawk from Dust.

“As I just said, I’m not really a demon, but I suppose that’s a wise notion,” he answered, “It seems you humans are quick enough on the uptake to learn a thing or two.” He saw the way the jibe made the girl’s face pinch in anger, but cut her off before she could make a biting retort, “You asked a question, now let me ask you one. Are you truly alone? Surely in a city this large there are more of you.”

She bit her lip before answering, “There _were_ others. Groups of people, who organized, tried to fight back. You can probably guess how long _they_ lasted. It was really every man for himself. I learned not to trust anyone. People were desperate. You made a deal with someone hoping that it would keep you safe, and then as soon as your back is turned you get a knife in the ribs. I didn’t survive this long by trusting people.” Her eyes turned dark, her voice bitter. Clearly she had experience in the matter.

“And how _did_ you survive this long?” he prodded. She was silent for a moment, as reluctant as he had been to reveal anything.

“Luck,” she answered simply, “and a lot of bullets. But mostly luck. Made sure I knew how to defend myself. A good thing too. The ones who didn’t were the first to die. It’s been, what, two years now? As far as I know, everyone else is gone.”

For the rider, two years didn’t seem very long, but for a girl who was only human it must have seemed very long indeed. A long time to be alone.

 


	2. Chapter 2

Death observed the girl in silence as she led him through the ruined city. Her back and shoulders were tense and she fidgeted, eyes darting back and forth. She jumped at the slightest noise. A frightened animal.

They moved cautiously; already, the concentration of demons and undead humans had grown thicker. The girl didn’t take chances and immediately put a bullet though the skull of anything vaguely demonic if it got just a bit too close. The entire time she never let him out of her line of sight, never looking away even as he shredded his way through the hordes in geysers of blood and viscera. Her tolerance was impressive.

“Hey,” she finally called to him when the streets were cleared, “It’s in there.” She pointed ahead of her, straight into the mouth of a dark alley that overflowed with the stench of demons, almost overpowering the tinge of something bright underneath. “I'll uh... watch the entrance.

“What, you’re not coming?” Death retorted with an equal amount of snide. She snorted in reply.

“Yeah, no. Another way I stayed alive was to _not_ waltz into demon-infested nests. I’ll stay out here, thank you very much.”

“Suit yourself, more for me,” he strode casually forward, sliced the demons guarding the entrance in half in a flash of steel and went to work.

 

The girl hung back, peeking around the corner to witness the blood and carnage. It was really almost funny how little of a chance the demons stood against the wrath of the rider.

_Squawk!_ She turned sharply to see Death’s giant crow hunched on the bars of a half destroyed bike rack, glaring at her with those mean little eyes.

“What do _you_ want bird?” she snapped at it. Dust croaked low in his throat, and the girl thought it could have counted as a growl. “So what, you scared of the demons so you go after the girl instead?” She demanded and the crow’s feathers seemed to bristle. She swore the glare the bird shot her was almost accusatory.

“Who me? I’ve got the whole ‘Last of Humanity’ thing going for me. What’s your excuse?” Dust’s next squawk was so sharp and loud that the girl was afraid that the demons would hear. “Alright, alright, I get it!” she hissed, “Demons are freaky, I understand! I’ve been running from them long enough to know that.” She didn’t even know why she bothered talking to the bird, but there was a glint in Dust’s eye that gave the impression of intelligence. Dust hopped a bit closer, making a strange clucking sound deep in his throat.

“Alright, look, I think we got off on the wrong foot before,” she said casually, pushing herself off the wall and crouching on the pavement to see eye-to-eye with the crow. “How ‘bout this? I’ll promise not to shoot you, if you promise not to try and peck my eyes out in my sleep. Sound good to you?” Dust bobbed his head in that strange way that birds do, but the girl took that as an agreement.

Guttural screams of rage and pain still echoed off the walls of the alley. “Sheesh, what’s he doing in there?” she muttered, moving back to the corner. She almost jumped out of her skin when Dust’s weight suddenly settled on her shoulder and he croaked, sounding strangely triumphant. She couldn’t see past the wall of black feathers that blocked her vision.

“Geez, you’re heavier than I thought you’d be,” she told him, and Dust simple ruffled his feathers and looked away as if to say, _I don’t know what you’re talking about_. The girl shook her head. “You are the strangest crow I have ever seen.”

An earsplitting screech split the air and both girl and bird jumped. The shriek was silenced with a disgusting wet _squelch_ and then it was quiet. Death came strolling from the alleyway, his bare chest splattered with blood and his blades glistening red in the sunlight. A shining white rod was clenched in his bony hand. He raised a brow at the sight of Dust sitting comfortably on the girl’s shoulder. “Did I miss something?” he asked and the girl shot the crow a look from the corner of her eye.

“We’ve kind of come to a mutual understanding. Though I think it was just part of his plan to get a back-up shoulder.” Dust gave an offended croak and fluttered up to his normal perch on Death’s shoulder.

 

 

“Well, I’ve got what I came for,” he gestured with the rod, “The two of you can bond more as we search for the next piece.”

“So what _is_ it exactly?” She reached out a tentative hand, her fingers hovering near the shining surface of the rod, but never quite touching.

“An artifact called the Rod of Arafel,” Death replied, turning the rod over in his hands, noting the way that light emanating from every inch of it. What was with angels and their need to make everything glow? “Apparently it has the ability to purge Corruption. An angel told me that it would assist me in finding what I’m looking for.” The girl’s face scrunched up in distaste at the word ‘angel’. “Ah, I see you’ve found that angels are not nearly as benevolent as your people have made them out to be.”

“The angels were nearly as bad as the demons at the beginning,” she shook her head, her nose crinkled as though she had tasted something sour, “People saw them and thought they were here to protect us. But when they started cutting us down, we knew we were screwed.” she pulled away, arms tight against her chest. “I’d rather not have anything to do with them.”

“Believe me, if I didn’t have to neither would I,” he said, sticking the rod through his belt. “But much is at stake if I don’t,” his voice became quiet until he caught the girl scrutinizing him.

“Come, we still have another two pieces to find.” He took off without checking to see if she was following him, but she could hear her struggling to keep up with her considerably shorter legs.

“So, are you gonna like, tell me why you’re going on this stupid fetch quest? Or do you just expect me to follow you around like a lost puppy?”

In spite of not actually knowing what half of what she said referred to, the rider supposed he would have to tell her _something_ if he wanted to keep her around. The question was just how _much_ he should tell her.

“It’s… a family matter,” he said slowly. “My brother is also a victim of this apocalypse, but in the way that the whole mess has been blamed on him. I'm certain of his innocence, but proving it to his accusers has proved more... tedious than I first thought.”

“How's that?”

“You ask an awful lot of questions, do you know that?”

“I’d personally like to know what it is I’m risking life and limb for by following you around,” she snapped, stepping in front to stop him, “I could always just ditch you instead.”

She met his glare quite evenly, only flinching slightly when those fiery eyes locked onto hers. So he still frightened her. Good. He sighed impatiently. “People never do things for free. Remember that.”

The girl gave him a heated sneer. “Believe me, I'm aware of that. Just hoping the show is worth the price of admission,” she said loftily before she turned around and kept walking.

Death didn’t think she would drop it that easily, but there was no doubt she’d try again later. At least he had bought enough time to think up what he was going to reveal to her when next she try to pry.

 

It wasn’t two hours later when the girl began to yawn. She stopped in the street, squinting into the sunset, and stubbornly refused to move even when Death began to argue.

“Time is not something we have on our side, girl,” he hissed, “We need to keep moving.”

She yawned in reply and rubbed at her eyes, giving the rider an exasperated look. “Look, I don’t know how much you know about humans, but we’re not built to just keep going and going,” she snapped. “I’ve been operating for the last five days on about 10 hours of sleep and if I don’t stop for at least a little while there’s a good chance I’m just going to keel over. Either you put up with me getting a few measly hours of shuteye, of you can go on without me!” She crossed her arms and glared coldly. Clearly she wasn’t going anywhere.

Death bit back a frustrated sigh. Humans were fragile he had to remind himself. As much as he wanted to leave this liability of a girl behind and continue on his own he was loath to do so. If he left the girl now there was a good chance that he would never see her again. “Fine,” he ground out through clenched teeth, “a few hours, but that’s it. It is not wise to remain here for long.”

“You think I don’t know that?” she sneered, “I’ve been doing this long enough to know the danger.” The girl let out a snort and brushed past him, heading for the blown-out shell of a bakery a block down.

“You’re making it difficult for me tolerate you!” he called after her. She flicked up her middle finger from over her shoulder

“The feeling’s mutual!” She shouted back and left him, still fuming, to follow after her.

 

She had tucked herself behind the bakery counter when he found her, cast in shadow and low enough to the ground that she was hard to spot, while still being able to peer through the shattered glass display case to see any incoming enemies. Even now she kept an eye out, glaring sharply at Death as he picked his way over a floor covered in splinters of wood. “You just… stay over there, alright?” she pointed to the far end of the building where the wall had crumbled over the edge of a crater, allowing a view of the darkening sky.

“Oh, of course, Your Majesty,” the rider quipped, bowing mockingly in the girl’s direction, “whatever you say.” He scoffed, leaning over the counter to glare at the little human beneath him. “Honestly I don’t know why you’re so worried. You’re of more use to me alive than dead you know.”

“Well excuse me for being a little paranoid having a stranger, who by the way is _not human_ , watching me while I sleep! Now get lost!” With that she turned over, ducking her head beneath the collar of her jacket that she was using as a blanket. With a snort the Pale Rider let her be, returning to the crater’s edge. There he perched, legs swing out over the steep drop. He would keep an eye out while the girl slept, making sure the likes of demons and the swarm didn’t show up while his charge was vulnerable. Dust croaked from his shoulder.

“Why am I doing this Dust?” he asked the crow, “she’s being more of a liability than I first thought, not to mention she’s just about the rudest creature I’ve ever met. I would probably be better off without her.” There was a squawk before Death received a sharp peck to the ear. He swatted at the bird until he flew off, screeching. “I should have known you’d take her side, you traitor,” he growled. It was going to be a long day.

 

Death checked on the girl frequently, mostly to make sure that she hadn’t run off when he wasn’t looking. Sure enough though, she was asleep, curled up on herself for warmth. For the first two hours she slept peacefully, her usual hard expression smoothed over in the embrace of slumber. As the third hour rolled around however, Death began to hear whimpers and pants drift over to him. Her once-peaceful face was furrowed and her fingers dug into her arms. Minutes trickled by as the girl struggled against her nightmares, curling further into herself as though she were trying to get away from something. Just as Death lowered a hand to shake her awake, she shot bolt upright with a small scream, rifle gripped in white knuckled, finger trembling on the trigger. The barrel was aimed between the rider’s eyes.

Grabbing the barrel, Death yanked the gun from the girl’s hand just as it went off, the loud report setting his ears to ringing. Without her weapon the girl coward against the cabinet, pupils blown wide, face slack and white with terror. She shook, breath hitching in her chest, staring with unseeing eyes somewhere over his head. Death gently laid a hand on her shoulder, pulling back sharply when she turned and fixed that empty stare on him. Fear, unbridled and depthless looked out from a face that he was used to seeing pulled into derisive sneers. Again, he reached out for her shoulders, shaking her slightly in hopes of bringing her back from whatever dark place in her mind she had gone to. She whined in reply, clumsy fingers frantically working to pry his hands from her shoulders. “It’s me, girl!” he said, low and urgent, “It’s just me.”

His voice seemed to reach her and the girl blinked. Gradually her pupils shrank back down, color beginning to return to her face as she seemed to force herself to take several deep, measured breaths, in through her nose, out through her mouth until her could feel her wild pulse begin to slow beneath his fingers. Her head shook as she came to her senses and, upon seeing the rider so close to her, snarled and pushed him away.

“I’m fine,” she barked, though her voice was still tight, “I’m fine, it was just a nightmare.”

Death studied her, the way her hands were shaking and the sweat that was dripping from her face. She certainly didn’t look fine. “Do you get those often?”

She bit her lip and looked away, busying herself with wiping at her eyes. “Sort of,” came the grumbling reply, “part of the reason I don’t get a lot of sleep.” She stood and stretched, grimacing as she felt her back click in several places. “That, and sleeping on floors sucks,” she mumbled.

“If you’re done, we should probably move on.” Death was itching to get moving again, knowing that the precious little time the girl slept meant that the horde would find them soon.

She waved him away. “Yeah, yeah,” she said, stifling a yawn behind her hand, “go ahead and scout out the block. I’m gonna go raid the pantry and then I’ll be right out.” She ducked into the bakery’s back room and left him to do as she said.

It was the dark of night outside of the bakery and silent as the grave. Not a single cry of undead to be heard. The sounds of the girl rummaging through boxes and cans cut through the still air like a knife. Death felt the hairs on the back of his neck stand up. Something wasn’t right.

The girl returned with a symphony of clattering as she slung her bulging pack back over her shoulder. “Hey, you see anything?” she asked as a means of greeting but was quickly shushed by a wave of Death’s hand, taking note of the tension set in his shoulders and the stillness with which he stood. Silence fell around them like a shroud. It was as though the very city was holding its breath, waiting for the oppressive silence to end.

_Screeeeeeeeeeeeech!_ The tension shattered like glass as the air filled with the pounding of feet and the raspy cries of the undead.

 


	3. Chapter 3

 

Asphalt pounded beneath their feet as they fled. Death was itching to fight but, once again, he had the girl to worry about. If they were overcome, the swarm would tear her to pieces within seconds. He was almost tempted to leave her, let the horde of undead rip the aggravating girl to shreds so he could go about his business unhindered but… no. As much as she tweaked at his nerves Death could not allow her to die, not as long as her existence proved his brother’s innocence. And so they ran.

The swarm was persistence however, dogging their steps and coming ever closer. The girl’s sides were heaving; how much longer could she keep up this pace?

Claws rent the air at Death’s back and he felt his reserve snap. Without much more thought, he grabbed onto the back of the girl’s jacket, physically threw her through the nearest open door and whirled to meet the swarm just as it collided into him. They threw themselves upon him with all the fury of a school of piranha, all trying to take a chunk out of the rider. Death never gave them a chance, shredding flesh and bone alike with savage sweeps of his scythes, never moving from his station before the door.

Somewhere from up above there was the loud _crack_ of a gun and the pained scream of a fallen receiving a bullet to the head. Death glanced up long enough to see the girl and his crow crouched on a balcony two stories up, sighting down the barrel of her antique hunting rifle with teeth gritted in a determined sneer. The gun sounded again and the girl flinched as another corpse went down in a spray of blood. Between lead and steel the swarm began to shrink until finally the roar of a Suffering drew the stragglers away.

“What the hell were you thinking, you asshole?!” the girl shouted angrily down at him from her lofty perch in the ensuing quiet. Icy eyes glared at him between the bars of the balcony. Even Dust, from the safe haven of the girl’s shoulders, shot him a dirty look.

“It was either fight or let them rip you into small pieces girl!” he shot back, “They very nearly caught up to us. Honestly, I’m surprised you’ve survived in this place for as long as you have given how careless you are!”

“You’re the one who literally _threw me into a building_ you prick!” she cried, “And I _never_ had those corpses come after me as hard as that before! Makes me think that _I’m_ not the one they’re after!”

Death closed his eyes, the shafts of the scythes creaking beneath his tightening grip as he fought down the anger blooming in his chest. _She’s even more impudent than Strife,_ he thought bitterly. His younger brother was normally the only one who could irritate him so. “Listen here _girl_ ,” he growled, eyes blazing, “death in a place like this is an inevitability. You are nothing more than a tasty morsel to the demons. Perhaps I should allow them to do as they please with you rather than waste my time protecting you!”

“Well maybe you should!” the girl practically screamed, springing to her feet and upsetting Dust from her shoulder, “There’s not really any point in me staying alive is there?! Everyone I know is already dead, right?!” tears were streaming thick and fast down her grime covered cheeks. “Maybe I should just throw myself to the horde! At least then I wouldn’t be stuck here, seeing the faces of my friends and families in every undead I kill and being TOTALLY ALONE!” Her voice cracked, the fury draining out of her as she slumped back against the wall and burying her head in her arms, body shaking as she let out one wet sob after another.

Death was silent. His fingers had strayed to the shards of crystal embedded in his chest at the girl’s words. He had disciplined himself to push the angry, anguished voices of his slain brethren to the back of his mind, but now they came flooding to the forefront of his thoughts. _Murderer,_ they whispered in sibilant voices, _Kinslayer. This burden is yours alone, Betrayer!_ Something heavy settled in his chest, and for the first time since the souls of his fellow nephilim began to haunt him, Death felt guilt.

Slowly, he climbed the rotting stairs to the second story balcony where the girl sat, curled into herself as she cried. He made no attempt to comfort her but simply sat beside her, waiting for as long as it took for her sobs to quiet to hiccups.

“I understand your pain more than you might think, little one,” he said softly, though she made no indication that she had heard him. “I too, am alone. My own people are long dead,” his fingers grazed the crystal fragments, “There are only four of us now, and one awaits judgment before a corrupt council. But,” he looked down at the girl, “ _you_ can help me save him, and in return, I can save your people.”

This made her look up, slowly and unsurely with red-rimmed eyes.

“That had been my goal from the beginning: My brother War was accused of triggering the apocalypse and the extinction of your race. If I could erase his crime and resurrect the souls of humanity, then he would be appeased. You, of course,” he smiled tightly down at her, though he knew she couldn’t see it, “change things. The fact that you live is proof that my brother was not responsible. To that end, I will do what I must to protect you, even if you are incredibly irritating at times.” Her eyes narrowed ever so slightly and Death couldn’t help but smirk. Even through the tear streaks marking her face she still had the capacity to look angry.

“I will still do as I originally planned however,” he continued, “your people can still be saved. It was not yet their time.”

The girl sniffed in reply, scrubbing the sleeve of her jacket across her face and only succeeding in smearing the dirt around. She set her chin on her knees, contemplation in her expression as she took in the view of her shattered city around her. Her pain weighed heavily on her shoulders, compounded by fear and uncertainty and nightmares.

“I understand if you don’t believe me,” he said, and with a chuckle he added, “and to be honest if I were in your situation I probably wouldn’t. You’ve only the word of a stranger to go on, after all.”

“You’re making a horrible case for yourself,” she mumbled at last, though her voice was still thick and croaky.

“Yes, well I’d hardly call diplomacy my strong suit,” he retorted, “I’ve been told I’m too sarcastic for it, though I can _hardly_ imagine why.” The edge of the girl’s lip twitched, but just a tiny bit.

“I did not mean what I said before,” he continued, genuinely trying to sound like he meant it, as unused to such delicate conversations as he was. He had to once again remind himself that the girl was only human, lost in a world where things only wanted to harm her and without the strength to fight back. “I won’t allow the demons to hurt you, but to that end you must listen to me and do as I say when I say it. That is, if you’re still willing to accompany me.”

She was silent for a long while, looking everywhere but him, picking at the dirt under her fingernails or watching Dust as he wheeled by overhead. Eventually she heaved an enormous sigh, turning bloodshot blue eyes on him. For a moment, he almost feared she’d say no, that she would choose the knowledge of inevitable death over the slight possibility of survival.

“M’kay,” came her quiet answer, and Death gave in internal sigh of relief. Standing up, he offered her a hand, one she looked at dubiously before reluctantly taking it and allowing him to haul her to her feet.

 

The girl remained silent until they reached the street, where Dust’s shrill cries announced his return. Much to Death’s surprise as well as the girl’s, the crow alighted upon the human’s small shoulder and nuzzled his head against her cheek.

“Well, at least someone’s happy you’re still here,” Death commented, watching the girl raise a tentative finger to stroke the feathers of Dust’s neck, “What Dust, is my shoulder not good enough anymore?”

The bird croaked and took a few more moments to indulge in the girl’s affections before fluttering back to his customary perch on his master’s shoulder.

“I don’t get why he’s suddenly decided that he likes me so much,” she said softly, voice still not quite recovered from her outburst, “when we first met he looked like he was ready to peck my eyes out.”

“As you said before, you’re his back-up shoulder. He was just glad that there was somewhere comfortable to sit while I do all the work. Where would he go if you decided to leave?” Dust gave an irritable hiss and took off again, leaving Death to sigh and say, “My, so sensitive.” The twitch of the girl’s lip stayed a little longer this time.

 


	4. Chapter 4

Death couldn’t help but notice that as she led him further and further into the rotting concrete jungle of the city the girl still maintained a good deal of distance between them. So she still didn’t trust him, not that he could blame her considering that even _he_ didn’t really know what he was doing. At least now he understood a good deal more of her apprehension; Survivor's Guilt. Why had she alone been left to live while the rest of her people had been slaughtered like cattle? The fact that she had held this long against it was a testament to her own strength. Most others would have ended their own lives by this point.

Still, it seemed as though the outburst had done her some good. Sure, the twitchiness of paranoia was still there and was unlikely to ever go away, but some of the tension had left her shoulders with the release of so much pent up emotion.

By the time they had stopped walking the sun had risen almost fully into the sky and the heat could be seen shimmering off the tarmac beneath the intensity of its light. Death wished he could have called Despair; His spectral steed would have made short work of navigating the city, but the eldritch wards placed over the Earth by the Charred Council made summoning the beast impossible. Death had probably found the very last portal to the war torn world in all of Creation.

“Hey,” the girl called at last, directing his attention to the mouth of a tunnel that sloped down into the depths of the earth, clogged with abandoned cars, “I’m pretty sure the next piece is down there.”

“How sure is ‘pretty sure’?” he asked skeptically. She didn’t sound too certain.

She shrugged. “75% sure?”

He gave her a pointed look. “Does that mean that the other 25% is leading us into a dead end that will do nothing but waste out time?”

“Look, I don’t make it my business to go wandering into demon nests, alright?” she retorted. “All I know is that I saw a lot of demon activity the last time I was around here. Besides, we’re stuck until we get all three pieces right? So we might as well give it a shot.”

“I suppose there’s only one way to find out,” the Horseman conceded before looking to the crow on his shoulder, “Make yourself useful and scout out ahead for us.” Dust cawed and took off on silent wings into the darkness.

“Are you actually coming this time?” he asked the girl.

“Are you kidding me? I’m not staying out here by myself!” she cried, “I’m coming with! But… I’ll stay out of the way if things get… slashy.”

“Be sure that you do,” he peered bitterly down into the depths, “With our luck there will be plenty of demons to get in the way.”

“Fantastic,” came her deadpan reply as she pulled her rifle from her shoulder to check her ammunition, “this is exactly what I wanted to do with my day.”

“It’s certain to a lovely time,” he said in mock assurance, “shall we?”

“After you, Big Guy.”

 

The sprawling underpass was dank and cold, a harsh contrast from the blistering heat of the surface. The girl and the rider walked in silence, waiting with bated breath for demons to start crawling from the walls. But nothing came.

“What’s the big deal?” she whispered, squinting to try to see through the gloom, “Where are all the demons?”

“They are probably further in, guarding the rod. They must know we’re looking for them by now,” he told her. “Now stay silent. We wouldn’t want to tempt fate, now would we?”

Her mouth snapped shut, but he could see her grimace of irritation. Clearly she still had trouble accepting his authority. She reminded Death of War in a way, but he beat the thought down right after vowing to never let the two of them meet. Having two such volatile personalities in the same place? Death suppressed a shudder at the thought.

As he rounded the bend however, Death felt that shudder tickle his spine and stopped in his tracks at what he saw. The girl practically ran into him.

“Hey! What’s- oh my god…” her jaw dropped open at the gruesome sight: Angels, dozens of them, plucked of their feathers and hanging like butterflies pinned to a collector’s board. Their bodies decorated the walls of the tunnel, painting crimson streaks on the concrete with long-dried blood. And some of them were still _alive_.

“There is no God for them now girl,” he said darkly, leading the way through the gory gallery. Uriel had told him of this, how the soldiers of her Hellguard had been captured by demons, their pain and suffering used like batteries to fuel the dark armies of the Destroyer. Those that still lived were beyond saving. Death could only offer them a quick release from their torment. And so the Horseman went to work, methodically visiting those defeated angels who still clung to life, releasing their trapped souls with a swift blade through the chest. Each smiled with unbridled relief as they finally breathed their last.

The girl trailed behind him at a distance, stepping gingerly over the carpet of blood and feathers, averting her eyes whenever Death’s scythe cut through angelic metal. Her revulsion was palpable, but it was not caused by the stench of gore and rot.

“How could they just-“ she started to say as the last angel died, stopping to cover her mouth with a shaking hand and swallowing thickly. She tried again, “I know this is war but- _this_ … I think I get it now when they say there are fates worse than death.”

Death himself didn’t respond. If only she knew what he had done to his own people, perhaps she would not be so willing to follow him.

“Come,” he told her, “We must be getting close.”

As they trekked deeper the tunnel slowly turned into a labyrinth of passageways that led off further into the darkness. Some had clearly been there before; access and maintenance tunnels that once aided in the upkeep of the underpass. Others were clearly less so, as though they were made by enormous worms tunneling up from underground. In places it seemed as though the ground had split open into a drop down into the fetid waters of what might have once been a sewer. In other places great horns of basalt and obsidian jutted from the walls and floor, a core of magma glowing from behind cracks in the stone and turning the already dank air horribly humid and sticky. It was just a generally unpleasant place to be.

“We’re lost, aren’t we?” the girl finally commented at one point.

Death bit back a sigh. “We may very well be, yes,” he admitted as he fought back the growing irritation.

“Where’s Dust anyway?” she remarked, taking note of the crow’s absence, “Wasn’t he supposed to try and find a way through?”

“Yes, yes he was…” Death issued a sharp mental call and waited impatiently for the sound of flapping wings. Eventually, Dust came gliding out of the gloom to land on the Horseman’s outstretched hand. “Took our time, did we?” he admonished the bird. Dust ducked his head and let out a morose squawk. “Did you find something at least?” Once more Dust screeched and took off, swooping into a side passage and perching on a broken pipe to wait for them.

“Great,” the girl sighed, “at least _the bird_ knows what he’s doing.”

“And he’s not likely to let me forget it anytime soon… Come, we’d best follow him.”

Dust led the way further into the tunnels, until the even the flickering electrics failed to beat away the darkness.

“Shit, I can’t see a thing,” the girl hissed, “ _please_ tell me we’re almost there.”

“Afraid of the dark, are we?” Death teased, amused with the way the girl’s face twisted into a snarl.

“No!” she snapped hotly, “I just don’t want to run into something that can eat me!”

“Than I’d stop walking if I were you,” the Horseman grabbed her shoulder and forced her to stop just as something large slithered through the intersection ahead.

“Oooookay, I’ll stay here then. Come back when all the demons are dead!” she slipped away and hid herself in the shadows behind a concrete barrier. Dust squawked from his perch nearby, nervously hopping from foot to foot.

“Oh, just go,” the Horseman told the bird, “It’s not like I’ll need your help with this anyway.” The crow looked offended for just a moment before he took off after the girl. Death could hear the squeak of surprise when Dust no doubt took a place for himself on her skinny shoulder.

 

The demons never saw the Horseman coming as Death blended into the darkness, moving with unnatural grace and never making a sound until he dropped on a pack of them from above. The girl, watching from a distance as she crept from cover to cover to keep up with him, could’ve sworn that the Horseman was dancing, dipping in and out of the carnage in flashes of steel and sprays of blood. It occurred to her that this was the first time that she had actually seen him in a real fight and could not help but stare transfixed as Death became a whirlwind, his weapon flowing between two scythes and one so fast that it was hard to keep track of.

Death too had let himself become submerged in the tranquility of battle. Demons and Fallen alike fell like wheat in a field. It was almost _too_ easy. None of them could touch him no matter how hard they tried. In truth he was getting a bit bored. The last of the creatures fell with little more than a casual flick of the wrist. He turned back to collect the girl and-

**“Is this what you’ve been reduced to,** _ **Horseman?**_ **”** the voiced boomed down the corridor, twisted with humor, **“A** _ **caretaker**_ **for pathetic creatures such as** _ **this?”**_ At the end of the hall stood a demon so tall that the great wreath of horns adorning its head brushed the ceiling. The girl dangled with its huge hand wrapped around her neck, kicking uselessly at the beast’s massive belly and clawing at the scaly fingers slowly crushing her windpipe. The demon gave her a shake, laughing cruelly when she fell still, head spinning. **“Quite small isn’t it?”** It mused, tilting its head to examine her like a cut of meat, **“It would hardly make for more of a mouthful.”**

“Put. Her. Down,” Death said slowly, fists tightening around the haft of the scythes, and took a step forward. The demon put a little more pressure on the girl’s throat, forcing forth a small whimper. Death stopped.

**“Uh, uh, uh, Horseman,”** the demon snickered, black eyes gleaming with triumph, **“Take another step and I snap this little thing’s neck. How much is it worth to you, I wonder?”** Death was silent, but remained where he was. The girl’s face was beginning to turn blue, her vision going dark around the edges.

**“The Rod, Horseman,”** it grinned, **“I know you have a piece of it. If I return it, the Destroyer will reward me handsomely. Hand it over, Horseman, and I may just grant this** _ **thing**_ **a quick de-“**

It never got the chance to finish. With the most fluid of motions, Death threw one of the scythes into a spinning arc, severing the demon’s hand at the wrist. The girl came crashing to the floor, taking great gulping breaths and coughing when it failed to properly refill her lungs. Looking up with pain-blurred eyes, she took in the flurry of motion that was Death colliding into the demon’s chest and sending them both toppling back into the corridor.

Except suddenly it wasn’t Death anymore. An enormous being stood in his place, face cast into perfect shadow by a deep hood and great skeletal wings spreading from its back, keeping it hovering above the ground as it shed thick, bruise-purple mist from the ends of a tattered cloak. In large fingers of bone it held a scythe with a blade as long as the being was tall; which was to say very long, as the being was nearly as tall as the demon it was currently busy carving to pieces. There was a squelch and a horrible agonized bellow as the scythe sliced through the demon’s torso like a hot knife through butter, spilling blood and viscera in a thick stream. But the attacker wasn’t finished. It shoved the blade of the scythe upwards into the beast’s ribcage, pausing for a moment to let it suffer, choking on its own blood, before violently ripping the blade out in a magnificent explosion of violence and shards of bone.

As the demon’s body disintegrated into embers and ash the being became engulfed in a cloud of violet mist. Death stood amidst the gore when it finally dissipated. The girl unconsciously flattened herself against the wall when he approached, still seeing that other being every other time she blinked.

“Are you all right, little one?” he asked. She nodded mutely, not trusting herself to say anything without starting to panic. She tenderly touched fingers to her neck, grimacing when they pressed into the purpling flesh of her throat. That would hurt for a while. She pulled herself shakily to her feet and awkwardly tried to clear her throat, only succeeding in bending her double with another coughing fit. She waved him off, croaking something that might have been “I’ll live”, and followed the Horseman.

Her thoughts wandered as she walked. _I just nearly_ _ **Died**_ , she realized, reaching up to prod at the pattern of blooming bruises around her neck. Yep, they still hurt. _A_ _ **Demon**_ _just tried to_ _ **Kill**_ _me. Tried to use me like a bargaining chip with-_ She glanced over at the huge masked man walking beside her. He had saved her life, protected her like he had promised. He could have just let the demon snap her neck, save him the trouble of dealing with her, but he _didn’t_.

Fingers reached out and tugged on Death’s cloak. He turned to find the girl with one hand clenching the fabric and the other hovering uncertainly around her bruised throat. Her face was scrunched with something akin to embarrassment rather than fear or anger. She swallowed, grimacing when the bruises throbbed.

“Thank you,” she said quietly, unable to make her voice any louder than a croak, “for… saving my life Big Guy.”

Death blinked in surprise. He honestly hadn’t expected that level of humility from a tongue nearly as sarcastic as his own. “There’s no need to thank me,” he answered, “I couldn’t very well have let that beast strangle you, now could I?”

She gave a noncommittal shrug.

“Girl, when I said that I would protect you, I meant it. You’re not going to die unless I say so.”

She pulled a face at his wording, but stayed silent. She didn’t think she had the voice to argue anyway.

He chuckled at the exaggeration of her expression. It really was funny the way her expressions could speak for her. “Come, we’re getting close, I can feel it.”

 


	5. Chapter 5

The sun was kissing the horizon when the strange duo finally emerged from the darkness of the tunnels, Rod piece in hand.

“Ugh, thank God!” the girl moaned as they the stepped into the sunlight. “We were down there forever!”

“Don’t be so dramatic,” Death told her, “We got what we came for, didn’t we?” The girl had already recovered from both her near-strangulation and apparently from her humility too. She’d returned all too quickly to complaining with what little remained of her vocal range.

“Whatever,” she scoffed, “I’ve gotta take a breather after all of that. I’ve got a stash that’s hidden not too far from here if you don’t mind.”

“Actually, I do mind, but I take it that you don’t care what I think.”

“Don’t be such a sourpuss,” she taunted, slinging her gun over her shoulders, giving her back a languid stretch. “It’ll only take a few minutes, and it’ll give me a chance to get our bearings.”

Death sighed. “Very well. But don’t be long, little one, there’s still the final piece of the Rod to recover.”

“You got it Big Guy, I’ll be quick.”

The Horseman paused. “Why do you call me that? I have a name you know.”

“Call you what? ‘Big Guy’?” he nodded and she shrugged in reply. “It’s called a nickname. Besides, calling you ‘Death’ just kind of feels weird. No offense, but you have to admit it’s pretty ominous. Besides, you call me ‘Little One’, don’t you?”

“I call you ‘Little One’ because you’ve given me nothing else to call you! Or would you rather I give you a different name. I can think of plenty that would apply.” She grimaced at the unspoken threat.

“No no, it’s fine. Tell you what,” she offered instead, “If you actually manage to get me out of this mess alive, _then_ maybe I’ll tell you my name, okay?”

“You don’t sound all too certain that I’ll keep my end of the bargain,” he said, hands on his hips.

“Hey, anything can happen, right?”

Death didn’t have an answer for that. Even _he_ wasn’t sure they would make it out of this shattered world alive. All of Creation was against them in this.

The girl had gone on without him, squeezing through a narrow gap between two uprooted slabs of asphalt blocking the entrance to an alley. “Wait right there!” she called through the opening, “I’ll get the door for you.”

She had led him to a block of small warehouses, openings barred by metal shutters. Within the alleyway, Death watched the girl scrabble up the wall and slide through the remnants of a small shattered window. Moments later the shutter sprang open and the girl beckoned him inside.

“We should be pretty safe here for a time,” she said, having to jump to catch the handle of the shutter and pull it closed before seating herself on a crate. In fact, the whole of the small space was filled with crates; Death himself barely fit inside. Even Dust danced uncomfortably on his shoulder at the confinement.

“Quite the collection you’ve here,” he commented.

She shrugged, rooting around in the mess behind her. “I’ve been squirreling away supplies all over the city for a while now. Helps when I need to keep moving.”

“What about you?” she asked, busying herself with opening a can of preserved peaches with a knife, “you said you’re here for your brother. What’s he like? You gotta be pretty close if you’re going through all this shit for him.”

The Horseman snorted, taking a seat opposite her. He studied her with a tilt of his head as she swiftly devoured the can of fruit. “You remind me a little of him, actually,” he said at last. The girl looked up in surprise, pausing as she sucked the peachy syrup from her finger.

“Really?”

“Yes… Impulsive, pig-headed, resistant to just about every kind of authority- shall I go on?” He smirked at the sneer that spread across the girl’s dirty face.

“I'm going to try _real_ hard to take that as a compliment,” she replied through gritted teeth. “I can only imagine what the two of you are like around each other. I'd like to see that.”

“Oh absolutely not!” he exclaimed, “I fairly certain that the two of you would try to tear out each others throats the moment one of you opened your mouth. No. War may be my brother, but there have been plenty of times when we haven’t seen eye to eye. Still, he is family and I would ride to edges of Creation if that would mean saving him.”

“Hmm,” she hummed quietly.

“I miss my family,” she said it so quietly that Death nearly missed it, “the apocalypse is lonely.”

“If I’ve anything to say about it, you won’t be alone for much longer,” he stood and offered her a hand, one that she took with only a little hesitation. “Now come, the sooner we finish this here, the sooner I can fulfill my promise.”

She gave him a small smile, as genuine as ever he’d seen it. “You’re a good guy, you know that?” she told him as she opened the shutter to the street. “You try to act like you’re not, but you are.”

Death’s eyes narrowed. “Speak of what happens here to no one girl,” he replied sharply, “And are you sure you don’t want a hand with that? Wouldn’t want you to wear yourself out.”

The girl, who had been struggling to reach high enough to pull down the shutter, gave him a blue glare. “Alright, forget everything I just said. You’re still an asshole.”

 

“So, I’ve been thinking,” she said after a time, “If you’re Death, you’re brother’s War, are your other siblings Famine and Pestilence?”

“Fury and Strife actually. Where your people came up with such epithets, I’ll never know.”

“Wait, are you telling me that you’re actually a Horseman of the Apocalypse?”

“Yes,” he replied, raising a brow beneath his mask, “I thought that was obvious at this point.”

“That wasn’t exactly the first thing that crossed my mind, you know,” she huffed, “I’ve kind of had other things to worry about recently if you haven’t noticed.” Then, without as much heat, “So why did only your brother come here? Isn’t the apocalypse something all of you are supposed to do?”

The Horseman was silent for so long that the girl was sure that she’d offended him.

“The Seal was not broken…” at last he spoke, so quietly that she just barely heard.

“What was that?”

“The Seventh Seal was not broken,” he said louder, voice tinged with bitterness, “Seven Seals were made to be broken in the End War, opening the way for the armies of Heaven, Hell and the Third Kingdom to do battle. The seventh summons the Horseman. That Seventh Seal was not broken, but still my brother rode to Earth. He was framed, of that I am sure.”

“Damn,” she breathed, “I didn’t know the Apocalypse was so… political.”

Death snorted. “It’s not something I would expect a child to understand.”

“Wow, excuse you,” the girl interjected, bounding forward so that she could fix him with a glare, “If I’ve got my time of year right, I’m twenty years old this past month.”

She stopped as though struck by a sudden thought. “Man, if everything were normal, in one more year I would’ve been able to buy alcohol. That’s a depressing thought.”

“’Twenty years’?” Death taunted with a grim chuckle. “Girl, I’ve quite literally lived through millennia. No matter how long you live, you will always be a child to me.”

She grumbled. “In that case, you don’t have an opinion in this. If I get through this, I’ll only live another eighty years, tops. I can’t help but think about everything I’ve already missed; everything went down before I graduated high school and I hadn’t even decided where I wanted to go to college. What will happen if you bring everyone back? Will they even remember?”

Death shook his head. “I’m afraid I don’t have an answer for you, little one,” he said, “even I’m not sure what will happen. But I will not allow my brother to suffer alone. If I perish in the attempt, so be it.”

“You don't seem very optimistic,” the girl droned.

“Hope is fragile and fleeting girl,” he told her, “Its not something I take too much stock in.”

Strangely, the little human’s face stretched into an ironic grin. “ _Hope_ ,” she said, dragging the word out, “is a lot stronger than I think you’re giving it credit for. You might want to give it a chance sometime, cus it might just pay off. It has for me so far.”

Death stopped, once again baffled by his situation. The company he kept was never a positive crowd; true optimism was not something he was accustomed to. Her whirlwind of mood was difficult for him to keep up with.

“I don’t understand you,” he admitted, striding to match pace with her again. “You’re alone here; the last human in this city if not this entire realm. What have you to hope for?”

She shrugged. “I’ve known since all of this started that I didn’t have much of a chance. But if I just sat there, or wandered the city looking for people I would never find, I would’ve gone insane. I had to keep going, had to hold on to some belief that I’d live.”

She came to a stop and faced him. “But now _you’re_ here, and so far I’m still alive in spite of the fact that I nearly died twice today. That’s gotta count for something, right?”

Death couldn’t help himself. He chuckled deeply, reaching out a large hand and ruffling the girl’s already disheveled hair. She squawked in surprise, sounding hilariously like Dust, and ducked out of his reach. Her cheeks flushed pink as she started on another angry tirade that Death barely heard. He turned over the girl’s words in his head. If this one human girl, this one young woman, without even an iota of the power the rider possessed, could hold out hope for so long, than perhaps so could he.

But any thought of hope was put to the back of his mind as once more the quiet shattered like so much glass. The air split with a monstrous scream and the thunder of feet joined the chorus.

“Oh, come ON!” the girl shouted, throwing out her arms in exasperation. “Are you _serious_ right now?!”

“And you say _I’m_ the one who's killing the mood,” Death said blandly. The first of the undead horde poured around the corner and once more they were forced to run.

 


	6. Chapter 6

The Swarm was hot on their tail once more, a mob of twisted human flesh that pursued them like hounds from Hell. Navigating through the rubble-strewn streets as a unit however proved cumbersome, and the unlikely couple of the human girl and the rider of Death managed to gain headway. Death fell back to slice through the few who had caught up to them, twin scythes whirling in a furious dance.

The only preamble to the sudden explosion was a faint, high pitch whistling noise and a feeling of built pressure about to burst. Death turned and barked a warning towards the girl, too little too late as the building on the left promptly exploded, windows and walls blowing out in cascades of glass and brick that kick the dust up into a billowing cloud that swallowed the girl whole. Behind him, the screams of the Swarm grew louder, the pounding of their feet signaling their approach. Realizing that going back would be foolish he plunged into the dust cloud, the world immediately becoming muffled beneath a sky of dirt and ash. He could just vaguely see the glow of flames emerging from the destroyed building. He trod carefully, picking his way through boulder-sized chunks of brick and concrete, crunching broken shards of glass beneath his feet.

The sound of someone coughing drew his attention, and through the gradually settling dust he made out the outline of something small and human-shaped. The girl was on the ground, propping herself up on her elbows, streaked with blood and desperately trying to clear her lungs of the ash.

“I’m surprised you’re still in one piece,” Death commented as he came closer.

She squinted through the haze at the muffled sound of his voice, eyes bleary and unfocused. She stuck a finger in her ear, wiggling it around to try and rid it of the awful ringing that filled her head. Blood dripped down the side of her face. She blinked hard, shaking her head vigorously which seemed to help. “Sorry what?” she said, speaking a little louder than she needed to, “I couldn’t hear you.”

“Are you all right?” he shouted back. Clearly the answer was ‘no’ but he felt the need to ask.

“That's debatable...” she tried to push herself to her knees, biting back a yelp when fresh pain shot through her left leg. The flesh above her left knee was seeping with blood where shards of stones and glass had pierced her skin. “Ow, no, scratch that, not all right.” She gently flipped onto her back, trying her best to keep pressure off the wounded leg. “Ooh, yeah, that’s not good,” she stated, though it felt like an understatement. There was kind of a lot of blood. “What about the swarm? Did we lose them?” A guttural scream came in reply.

Silhouettes bled through the dissipating cloud, moving fast. A living corpse leapt from the unit, clawed hands outstretched, eager for blood. A curved blade met it first, slashing through its throat with a spray of scarlet. Two more took its place. Death knew he would soon be overwhelmed and with the girl wounded it would be impossible to take them all. Death had had to run from fights far too much for his likely lately, but with a frustrated growl he turned on his heel, wrapped an arm around the girl’s waist ignoring her protesting cries, and started to run.

She twisted in his grip and pulled herself up to look over his shoulder at the converging Swarm. Faces swam before her eyes and she growled. _It’s not them_ , she told herself as she ripped the hunting rifle from her back.

“Keep going!” she shouted over the undead screams. Death didn’t acknowledge her but kept running all the same. The girl balanced in the crook of his arm, steadied the muzzle on his broad shoulder and took a deep breath, forcing her mind to calm in the midst of the noise and pain-induced adrenaline. Peering down the barrel with cold eyes, imagining a bullet between the eyes of the closest undead, she muttered, “Eat this,” and pulled the trigger. Its head exploded with a sickening crack and it went down. Those behind it stumbled over its body. She took aim and fired again, putting another bullet through a rotting skull.

Another four went down before Death heard her swear, her gun empty and reloading impossible from her awkward angle. Death took it as a signal to lose the Swarm and hung a sudden right into a narrow alley and scrambled up a slope of collapsed brick, dropping down the wall on the other side and ducking into a deteriorating apartment building. He listened carefully with his back to the wall, refusing to so much as breath until he heard Dust call from a signpost on the corner, declaring them safe from the Swarm for a time.

The girl had grown limp in his grasp. “Put… me down,” she croaked in a weak voice, “I have to dig out the shrapnel.” Death gently set her back on her feet but didn’t move to help her as she stumbled on her own before she half collapsed against the wall. Her hands shook as she removed her pack from her shoulder. From it she dug out a small skinning knife and a metal canteen. She tore the shredded denim of her jeans away from her leg, revealing the bloodied flesh that marred the skin above and around her left knee. Unscrewing the cap from the canteen, she gritted her teeth and poured the water from it over the wound, washing away blood and dirt and uncovering the shards of stone and glass that jutted from the ruined flesh.

Death watched intently with a morbid curiosity and what might have been concern as the girl pulled the small knife from a leather sheath. She placed the tip flat against her skin where a large piece of stone was embedded and, taking a deep shuddering breath, began to push. Fresh blood seeped from around the shard as she forced the blade deeper and deeper; eventually giving it a twist and the stone popped out and fell to the ground with a splat. She stopped to wipe the sweat and tears from her face before moving on to the next one. Her breathing was ragged and her lip bled from where she was biting it to hold back her cries of pain. Still, she worked ceaselessly until her hands were stained with blood and the last bit of glass wormed free of the wound. Finally, more water was poured over the wound and she tied it tightly with a roll of gauze. She slumped back against the wall, heaving a heavy sigh. Death was rather amazed with one so small. True, she looked rather worse for wear; she was horribly pale and the bandage around her leg was already tinged with red; but the fact that she had performed such a crude surgery while remaining conscious was impressive.

Dust swooped through a broken window and alighted on Death’s shoulder with a raspy cry. _The Swarm is returning,_ that cry warned him. He couldn’t help but groan. Peace was nearly non-existent for him these days. Every lead he had found on his quest for War’s absolution had led him on one wild goose chase after the next. He was beginning to feel that he would never find the secrets to the resurrection of humanity and the erasure of his brother’s supposed crime.

And yet, here before him, was proof of War’s innocence; living, breathing evidence in the form of a fiery young human. However, she needed to _remain_ living and breathing for her testimony to be of any use. They needed to move immediately to remain ahead of the Swarm. “Get up little one,” he called to her, rising to his feet. The girl didn’t respond. Death moved toward her until he was close enough to notice that she had merely fallen unconscious, her chest rising and falling steadily, her breathing slightly shallow. Death sighed. Transporting her in the state she was in would be inconvenient, but he had no other choice if he wished to stay ahead of the Swarm long enough to complete his goal. “You’re not going to make this easy, are you?” he asked the unconscious girl. It was already turning out to be a long day.

 

Her face was unnaturally warm against his bare shoulder, burning with fever as her body fought the shock of her injury. He had borne her weight easily on his back for the past few hours and still the girl slept on, twitching and whimpering in the grip of fever dreams. For the moment the streets were empty, the Swarm having moved on, no longer interested in the rider. Hot sulfurous wind skittered across the asphalt, blown from the molten pits that marred the landscape from the initial invasion. Dust flew high overhead to keep an eye out for the Swarm, and because his customary spot on Death’s shoulder had been stolen by the girl.

He felt the girl stir and heard a groan as she slowly fought her way back into consciousness. One of her hands moved sluggishly to rub at her face. She blinked slowly, her brain slow to register what was happening. Death felt her attempt to shift her weight and heard the hiss of pain that followed the aggravation of her wounded leg. She groaned again, whether out of anger or out of exhaustion Death couldn’t tell, and laid her feverish forehead back onto his shoulder.

“Have you decided to rejoin the land of the living?” he asked. Her initial reply was to heave a deep sigh.

“I dunno…” she mumbled, her speech slurring, “You sure I'm not dead?”

Death offered her a humorless chuckle in return. “Not quite, I’m afraid. You got rather close though.”

“Hmm…”

For a time, the only sound that could be heard was the rider’s footsteps on the pavement. The girl was deep in thought, and Death could practically hear the gears turning in her head. “Hey Big Guy?” she asked suddenly, her voice sounding higher and younger than he was used to. He grunted to let her know that he was listening. “Do you believe in fate?” The sudden question nearly made him falter in his stride.

“Where has this come from?” the girl gave a lazy shrug.

“Dunno,” she replied, “I was just thinking… every time something like this has happened before, I’ve been lucky enough to get away on my own. But this time…” she paused and took a deep breath, “I wouldn’t have been able to escape the Swarm. They would’ve caught me for sure with the way my leg is so… maybe it was fate that we met each other.” Death was silent, absorbing her words. He felt those hard blue eyes on the back of his head; eyes that had seen far too much destruction for one so young.

Finally he answered: “I believe that fate is not so set in stone that it cannot be changed. I chose to come here so that I may find the means by which to change the fate of my brother, after all. Perhaps finding you was simply a consequence of the path I have chosen.”

“A consequence, huh? That’s one way of putting it I guess,” the girl sounded a good deal more coherent, the conversation helping to wake her up. “If that’s the case, I suppose you could say that if you didn’t show up, I wouldn’t be in this goddamn mess in the first place!” her chuckling quickly devolved into a fit of coughing, after which she fell silent.

“Have you any idea as to how close the last piece of the Rod is?” he asked to break the silence. The girl moved her head and squinted, trying to discern where they were through the haze in her thoughts.

“Well…” she started, “I think that used to be one of the east entrances to Central Park,” she pointed and Death followed her finger, spying the soot-blackened wrought-iron gate beyond which charred skeletal trees reached their limbs into the sky. “I remember seeing a bunch of demons somewhere in an old subway terminal near here…” she strained to eyes to decipher the ash covered street signs. “Looks like we just passed 75th. The closest station is on 77th. Keep going a couple more blocks and take a right. That’s probably where it is.”

Death took her direction and trekked on. Black clouds had started to gather on the northern horizon, promising a bout of rain. Death had rarely visited the Third Kingdom before the false apocalypse; only necessity brought him here now. Still, it was plain to see the amount of destruction caused by the clashing armies of heaven and hell. Towering skyscrapers now stood like cold monuments, every window shattered and every room dark and abandoned. Humans had always been a thriving race; so many cities teeming with life. Now, it was empty, like the skin of a huge snake left to dry in the sun. Only one little life was left, and it was currently sitting on his back.

The station was cold and dark at the bottom of the stairs. Death felt a tap on his shoulder before the girl spoke: “You can put me down now,” she said, “I need to work some feeling back into my legs.”

“Are you certain?” the last thing he needed was for her to aggravate her injured leg. It would only slow them down more.

“I’ve had worse,” Death was silent, unconvinced. “C’mon, I’ll be careful. We should go slowly anyway. There are a lot of nasty things down here that we don’t want to run into.” Death slowly knelt and she slid carefully from his back, bracing herself against him as her legs shook beneath her before she gained her footing. “See, I’m fine,” she told him as he stood and examined her skeptically. The scratches on her face had ceased bleeding, but the bandage around her leg was stained a violent red. She followed his gaze and grimaced. “Yeah, I’ll fix that, gimme a minute,” she grumbled, hobbling to a wall and leaning against it. Death left to scout ahead as she dressed her wound, watching for signs of movement in the dark tunnels. His footsteps echoed loudly against cracked concrete walls, the sound bouncing and magnifying more than he liked. The girl had been right about going slowly; anything could creep up on them out of the gloom.

Uneven footsteps signaled the girl’s approach. She moved surprisingly well, although her left leg was being quite obviously favored. Her eyes however were clear and alert, her fever easing and allowing her to focus. Her hunting rifle was clenched in her hands, fully loaded. Death allowed her to take the lead. “C’mon, it’s this way,” she kept her voice soft, though the sound still echoed. The trek forward was slow, the constant noise around them keeping them on edge. She finally stopped, leaning against a corner and looking around the edge. She looked back to him and silently gestured him forward with a jerk of her chin. Death leaned over her and look around the corner and was greeted by the sight of a final piece of the Rod hanging in a webbing of black slime and guarded by dozens of lesser demons.

“Stay here,” he hissed in her ear, “and _try_ not to draw any attention to yourself.” Dust, sensing the oncoming conflict, leapt from Death’s shoulder to the girl’s who flinched ever so slightly at the talons he dug into her skin.

“I _got_ it,” she hissed right back, failing to keep the impatience from her tone, “now go and slice ‘em to pieces so we can get out of this hell hole!”

Death didn’t need to be told twice. Scythes in hand he stepped rather casually into the demons’ line of sight, immediately raising a bellow. From where the girl hid in the shadows, she could hear the symphony of carnage being conducted by none other than the personification of Death himself. The demonic roars of fury were quick to turn into screeches of pain before being silenced forever by Death’s blade. One unfortunate demon flew past, slamming into the unforgiving wall and crumpling to the ground, leaving a nice streak of dark crimson on the concrete. The cacophony died with the wet gurgling of a final demon. The girl crept cautiously from her hiding place to behold the utter decimation of the guard. The tunnel was littered with bodies, soaking the ground with their blood. Amidst the wreckage stood the Pale Rider, already turning his attention to the trapped fragment of the Rod of Arafel. The blade of his scythe sliced easily through the goo and the head of the rod dropped into his outstretched hand.

The girl’s whistle of appreciation echoed loudly in the tunnel as she examined the gore-covered floor. “Not bad,” she said, stepping awkwardly over a demon’s dismembered torso, “Looks to me like they didn’t even put up much of a fight.” Dust swooped from her shoulder and landed on a demon’s severed head, busying himself with yanking an eye out of its socket before the corpse began to disintegrate.

“Hardly more than a nuisance. The Demon Lords must be truly short-handed if _this_ was all they could offer.”

“But that’s it right?” she asked, gesturing to the sunburst-shaped head of the angelic rod in his hand, “We’re actually done? We can leave?”

“I believe so Little One. Unless of course there’s anything more to keep you here?”

Her head shook in a blur. “No way, let’s get outta here!” she exclaimed, “I’m so ready for things to not try and kill me anymore!”

“I wouldn’t hold my breath girl,” he warned her, “Even if I take you away from this world, it may very well be even more dangerous. If you decide to stay here, I will not stop you.”

“Yeah well, I think I’ll take my chances. Anything will be better than waiting around here for something to kill me. I’m tired of being hunted.” There was conviction in her voice; she had made her choice.

“Very well then,” he nodded, taking the three pieces of the rod and allowing them to become whole once more. Light burst forth as the parts connected, and the restored Rod of Arafel fell back into the Horseman’s hands. “Come, we much return this to its rightful owner.”

 


	7. Chapter 7

On the surface the sky had opened, the rain coming down in sheets, and both the Horseman and the young woman were soaked to the bone within seconds. The weather raged as though angered by the loss of the Rod.

Even so, despite the howl of the wind and the rush of the water in the streets, it was oddly bereft of demonic sounds. The Swarm did not come screaming for their lost prey and the bellows of angry demons were strangely absent. Needless to say it put the Rider on edge.

“Something isn’t right here…” he mumbled.

“You mean other than liquid Hell coming down on us?” the girl replied sardonically, limping miserably beside him.

Death ignored her. “They should know we have the Rod. Why aren’t they trying to stop us?”

“Maybe they don’t like the rain. Cus if I were them, _I_ wouldn’t be out in this mess.”

“No,” he replied, though it wasn’t a disagreement. He grabbed her shoulder, pulling her to a stop, ordering Dust into the air too see what he could not. She glared up at him ready to protest the hold up, when she saw the concentrated look in his ember eyes. Following his gaze up the street she saw nothing. But then she _felt_ it.

The street shook with a sudden quake that threatened to take her weakened leg out from underneath her. Only Death’s tight grip on her shoulder kept her upright. The earth shook again and this time its source could be seen.

Its black body was nearly invisible against the dark sky, but the vicious yellow gleam of its eyes and the nodes scattered across it were indicative to the sheer height of it. It loomed over three stories tall, easily breeching the overpass that stood between it and them. A sudden flash of lightning split the sky, illuminating its spindly limbs and insect-like head and offering it a good view of pair standing in the rain. It let out a piercing screech, one so loud and keening that the section of raised road splintered and fell with a resounding _crack_ to the ground. The girl cried out and clapped her hands over her ears. By God, the sound! It shot through her skull like a needle!

On top of the shriek came a uniform drone; the buzzing of dozens of insect wings. From the tubes atop the creatures head swarmed scores of insects, each easily the size of a small dog. They darted swiftly through the pouring rain, making short work of the distance between them.

“Onto my back little one!” Death shouted over the wail, already pulling one of her arms over his shoulder. She instantly obeyed, wrapping her arms around his neck and clamping her legs around his waist, too terrified to even act embarrassed. Her grip was iron as Death began to run.

“What the hell is that thing?!” she shouted over the maelstrom of noise. She regretted looking over her shoulder as the creature stomped after them, lead by its entourage of bugs, its long strides easily keeping pace with even the speed of the rider.

“I don’t know!” he answered her, “but I can’t kill it until I know it can’t get to you! Hold on!”

If possible, her grip tightened further and she buried her face in his curtain of hair. Even over the noise all around them, he could hear her muttering words of assurance to herself, holding back yelps as the Horseman’s strides jostled her wounded leg. Perhaps it was a good thing that she would soon leave this realm; he didn’t know how much more terror she could take.

On the other side of a long bridge in the distance, Death could spot the glowing angelic barricades, behind which waiting Uriel and her Hellguard, as well as the portal to freedom. The girl clung like a monkey to his back, hardly making a peep as the rider leapt over abandoned cars and ducked beneath fallen iron girders while the monstrosity chasing them bashed through the obstacles like a destructive child would through toy blocks. Death could feel the buzzing of the oversized insects wings starting to vibrate in his skull before the blockade finally loomed into view. Seemingly sensing their approach, the arcane wall dissipated just long enough for Death to slide inside.

Uriel started at the Horseman’s abrupt appearance. “Rider! What-“

“No time,” Death cut her off, prying the girl stiffly from his back and setting her on her feet. The angels physically flinched away as though repulsed by her. “Hold this please,” he said absently, pressing the Rod of Arafel into the girl’s shaking hands.

“The Rod!” Uriel exclaimed, “Death, what is-“

“I said no time, Uriel!” he interrupted her again before suddenly holding out a hand to the closest angelic warrior. “Lend me your cannon,” he said, and his tone excused no disobedience. The stunned angel blinked before handing the Salvation cannon in his possession to the rider. Death marched back to the barricade and paused, looking back over his shoulder. “If any of you so much as touch a hair on the girl’s head,” he said darkly, “than I’ll make imprisonment at the hands of demons seem the preferable alternative.” Stunned as well, Uriel dropped the wall and let the Horseman back out into the city.

 

With Death gone, the girl felt the platinum gazes of the gathered angels burn into her back. She whirled around, clutching the Rod to her chest, and met the angels’ eyes with a wide stare of her own.

“Um,” she mumbled, swallowing thickly, “this is awkward.” Her terror had faded now that the immediate danger had passed, but it was replaced by a palpable tension; the angels were _not_ excited to see her.

“A _human_ ,” Uriel stated in disbelief, “how can this be?” She took a step closer only for the girl to take a step back, knuckles turning white as her grip on the rod tightened.

“Your race is supposed to be extinct,” the angel said. There was an air of superiority in Uriel’s voice that the girl didn’t like, and she felt her fear burn off in a hot flash of anger.

“Yeah, no thanks to you!” she spat, taking the angel aback with the sudden venom of her reply, “We were doing pretty good before you and your demon buddies showed up!”

Uriel bristled, rising to her full height to tower over the human, spreading her wings to make herself even larger. How dare this lowly creature speak to her as such! “Guard your tongue human!” she hissed, “I do not fear Death, for my fate is already sealed. What business have you with the Horseman?”

“I don’t see why _you_ need to know that,” the girl growled, pulling the Rod closer to her chest. The rest of the Hellguard stood bewildered as the air between their commander and the little human seemed to crackle. Never had they seen Uriel, normally so unflappable, lose her temper so quickly.

Another of the creature cries pierced the air, and though the girl flinched as the horrid sound drilled into her ears she refused to react further, keeping her eyes locked with the angel’s golden glare. It wasn’t until the ground bucked beneath her that she was forced to look away, needles of pain shooting through her leg and she leaned on the Rod staff to stop her fall. The shaking turned to a quake, rippling through the earth as the creature screamed again, this time much higher and obviously in a great deal of agony. Even the phalanx of angels staggered with the force of it. Suddenly it fell silent and only the splash of rain in the streets and a ringing in the ear could be heard. There was a polite knock at the barricade wall.

Pinning the girl with one last glare, Uriel moved to drop the barrier and let the Pale Rider back inside. He left a trail of water and sickly green gore in his wake, the rain painting abstract streaks over ashen skin peppered with small cuts that failed to bleed and were already in the process of closing. Dust swooped down from above and landed on his shoulder, picking at the guts that still clung to his master. “Well,” he said pleasantly, tossing the smoking cannon back to its owner, “now that that unpleasant business is over, where were we?”

“The… Rod of Arafel, rider?” Uriel asked slowly, clearly trying very hard to keep the irritation from seeping into her voice.

“Ah yes, as you can see it has been made whole once more,” he held out a hand, into which the girl graciously passed it, looking all too happy to be rid of it. Uriel’s eyes lingered on her for a moment before she gave a quick shake of her head, returning her attention to the Horseman.

“I am tempted to ask that you wield that weapon and turn the tide of the war,” she said solemnly, “but I fear the Destroyer would capture it again, and turn it to his dark purpose.” Her grip tightened on her own blade for a moment. “No, better that you remove it from this world and into the safe keeping of the White Army. We will make our stand here, until the Hellguard is no more.”

Death nodded his understanding. “I would stand with you, Uriel… but my brother’s fate takes me on another path.” His tilted his head in the girl’s direction and she looked up from nervously picking at her fingernails at the feeling of the Horseman’s- and angel’s- eyes upon her. She snorted and crossed her arms, looking away impatiently. Death held back a snicker.

“You have proven yourself honorable,” Uriel was saying, though she still eyed the girl with deep suspicion, “a virtue little known with your kind. But if I ever see him, War must answer for his crimes.”

The Horseman’s eyes narrowed at the angel’s threat. “He could not have brought this upon the Earth,” he said firmly, once more gesturing to the girl, “for here I have proof. I will see my brother spared.”

Uriel shook her head. “A single human will not prove anything Horseman. What do you plan to do with her? She would never last a trial before the Charred Council.”

“I’ll think of something,” he told her, “in the meantime, she will remain under my protection. She is a witness, a testament to my brother’s innocence, and I plan to keep her alive so that her testimony might be used.”

There was the sound of a throat being cleared very deliberately, and both angel and rider turned to find the girl seething with annoyance. “Excuse me,” she barked, “I’m literally standing right here. You don’t need to talk about me like I’m not.”

“Then go wait inside,” Death said calmly, though his voice suggested it would be unwise to disobey, “Uriel and I need to speak. Or would you rather wait out here in the rain?”

She opened her mouth to protest again before a crash of thunder and lightning made her rethink. “Fine,” she said instead, stalking off for the shelter of a roof, “but hurry it up.”

Death actually sighed, shaking his head. “Keep an eye on her, would you?” he told Dust, who all too happily took off for shelter from the rain.

Uriel’s lips had thinned as she watched the exchange. “I don’t understand,” she said, “how such a creature survived here for this long.” She fixed the rider with a look. “I understand even less why you would decide to bring her with you.”

“She’s not so bad once you get to know her,” he admitted, “but then she opens her mouth and I begin to question myself. I stand by my plan however. She will be safe and my brother absolved of his crimes.”

“Do what you will rider,” Uriel said with resignation, “But this world is lost, and that cannot be undone.”

“Fight well then,” he told her, “and may you live to see the Destroyer breathe his last, Uriel of the Hellguard.”

The angel nodded her respect to the Horseman and drifted away, calling to her warriors to rally them once more, leaving Death to wander back to the portal. The old hotel’s front façade had crumbled entirely, opening the lobby to the destruction outside. The lobby must have at one time been quite magnificent; the plush carpets had been trampled threadbare and the sweeping staircases sagged beneath the weight of its own rot, the bannisters nothing more than shattered stumps of damp wood. The fountain in the center that at one point spewed water from an angel-shaped statue had run dry, the bottom of the pool replaced by a dark surface that appeared as a liquid and yet was not. This was the portal back to the Angelic outpost of Lostlight.

The girl was sitting on the floor, leaning back against the well of the fountain, wringing an obscene amount of water from her jacket. She looked up as he approached and, upon turning her head, revealed Dust sitting upon her shoulder.

“There you are,” she said, rising unsteadily to her feet, bracing against the wall as her left leg shook. She jerked a thumb at the strange rippling liquid at the bottom of the fountain. “So, this is it, huh? Does it seriously go to another world?” She sounded uncertain, but Death couldn’t be sure.

“Indeed it is,” he told her, looking down into the depths of the portal. Between the ripples, Death could see the vaulted ceiling of the top of the Crystal Spire. “An angel awaits on the other side for the Rod of Arafel.”

“Um, is this gonna be safe?” she asked uneasily.

He shrugged casually. “Probably not,” he admitted, “I rather doubt that he’ll be very excited to see you.”

The girl started and pulled back, her eyes growing wide.

“Having second thoughts, are we?” he pondered.

“You’re not exactly helping you know,” she said tensely, “do you want me to come with you, or not?”

He stood before her, so tall that she had to look up to see the eyes behind the blank mask. Dust fluttered up to his shoulder to add his gaze to his master’s. “That depends on whether or not you are willing to trust me. I will not allow you to come to any harm. Do you believe me?”

The girl’s eyes narrowed; Death could practically see the wheels turning in her head. Eventually she looked away, taking a deep breath. “Alright,” she said softly, “I trust you.” Then more firmly, “But that means you can’t screw this up.”

“You have my word as a Rider,” he told her. “Now, if you are ready, we can leave the wretched place.”

“Let’s just go before I chicken out,” She mumbled, tying the sleeves of her damp jacket around her waist. Death led the way to the center of the pool and she followed hesitantly, her face pulling into an uneasy scowl. The Horseman’s hand rested on her shoulder, and the girl felt a pressure build around her as the ripples on the surface of the pool came faster and faster. She gave one final sad glance at the ruined remains of her home before the dark portal swallowed survivor and rider both.

 


	8. Chapter 8

She wondered briefly if this was what drowning felt like. Inky blackness pressed down all around her and there was a tugging in her chest. No, not just her chest but her _soul_ ; a feeling that the very center of her was being squeeze through a too-small space. Just as she felt as through her chest would burst from the pressure the darkness receded and she was hit by a completely _different_ sensation. Though the sunlight shone golden, there was a heaviness in the air, thicker than fog, that bore down on her like a tidal wave. It wasn’t a physical feeling more than a mental one, and the girl could only think of one word to describe it; _hate._

As she took her first stuttering breath Death’s hand clamped down on her mouth and forced her to silence. He raised a finger to his mask and swiftly led her away from the pool. As they turned the girl saw a figure standing at the bottom of the wide shallow staircase, a silhouette with four ivory wings spread wide. The Horseman steered her behind a massive pillar before releasing her.

“You’re staying here,” he announced in a whisper before she had the chance to speak.

“What?!” she yelped, before consciously lowering her voice, “you can’t be serious!”

“Of course I’m serious,” he replied firmly, “it’s much to dangerous for me to take you with me to the Citadel. You’ll be safer if you stay here.”

“But what about the angel?”

“You won’t be alone. Dust will stay with you, won’t you Dust?” The crow proudly puffed out his feathers as though honored to take on the task and flapped over to the girl’s shoulder.

“Really?” she said skeptically, “you’re trusting a _crow_ to protect me against an _angel_?” Dust hissed irritably and batted the back of her head with a flap of his wings. “Sorry, but I’m just being honest,” she grumbled, picking a black feather from her hair.

Death thought for a moment. “That’s a good point actually,” he murmured. The Horseman held out a hand and the air turned cold, a sickly green fog beginning to spill out over the edge of the platform. Rhythmic thumps, like a distant heartbeat started to drum, getting louder and louder until suddenly the fog erupted into a great cloud. From the mist stepped the steed of the Rider of Death, a huge decayed beast of exposed bone and a mane and tail of bile green fog. Despair uttered a sepulchral whinny in greeting to its rider, its stamping hooves kicking up clouds of yet more of that thick mist.

Death placed a hand on the horse’s neck. “Despair will _also_ stay with you.”

The girl had backed up considerably at the half-dead beast’s appearance, mouth comically agape.

“What have I gotten myself into…” she whispered, rubbing at her eyes as though it would change what she would see. When it didn’t work like she had hoped she sighed, shoulders slumping. “Are you sure it’s a good idea to leave me here?”

“This is not up for discussion,” he stated, leading Despair over to her. The beast snuffled at her hair, green mist billowing from its nostrils and making the girl gag. “Keep an eye on her, both of you,” he addressed the two creatures, “make sure the Archon doesn’t get… curious.” Both voiced their understanding, one with a squawk and one with a snort. Death nodded and took a step back. For the first time, he got a good look at the girl.

Tiny and confused, soaked to the skin with rainwater that slowing dripped into a puddle around her sneakers, the girl shivered. The rain had washed the worst of the grime from her face, revealing the slight hollows in her cheeks and the dark smudges beneath her eyes. The ring of bruises around her neck were turning an ugly yellow-green around the edges. With her jacket around her waist, freckle dusted shoulders peaked out of a black sleeveless shirt and her thin arms were marked with scars and slowly healing cuts. She stood uneasily in threadbare jeans, the knees worn through to the skin, the bandage around her left leg tinged pink. ‘Miserable’ was a good word for how she appeared.

Not for the first time, Death wondered if he’d done the right thing bringing her with him. He could not assume that she would be safe, even if two of his most trusted companions were to watch over her. Most likely the Archon was already aware of their presence. He could only hope that the angel wouldn’t find her of any interest.

“I will return soon,” he told her, “in the mean time, try not to draw attention to yourself.”

“Alright,” she said quietly, feeling uncomfortable between the two strange animals. “Just… don’t take too long, alright?”

He nodded, leaving the girl in the company of the eldritch beasts.

 

The angel still stood at the base of the stairs when he returned to the Spire’s vestibule.

“Be careful what you wish for, Archon,” Death called and the angel turned. The light that radiated from his face was almost too bright to look into. “You might just get it.” The Horseman hefted the angelic staff in his hands and the Archon’s face seemed to blaze.

“The Rod of Arafel,” he said, longing laced into his words. “I have been waiting… so long.” The angel snatched the Rod from the rider’s hands, running his fingers over its surface almost in a caress. Sparks danced across it at his touch. “It feels… every bit as powerful as I imagined.” There was such relish in his voice, as one would have when describing a lover. It frankly made Death a tad uncomfortable.

“Then you should have no problem clearing a path into your city,” He said. The last thing he needed was for the Archon to completely ignore him now that he had what he wanted.

“A path?” the angel almost sounded insulted by such a notion. “No. I will clear the entire realm,” he turned from the Horseman, facing the corrupted gloom of the Citadel in the distance as the eye of the Rod began to burn with radiant light. “I will burn away the shadows… with Holy Light!” The Archon raised the Rod above his head and the light exploded outwards into a searing beam that bridged that gap between the Spire and the Citadel, burning away the Corruption that covered it like so many shadows before the sun.

The display hardly fazed the Horseman, but it was a notable feat nonetheless.

“If you are to reach the Citadel, you will need wings,” the Archon informed him, raising a hand to his lips and letting out a high whistle. Something answered with a shrill cry from above as a winged creature dropped from the top of the Spire. The beast landed hard on the platform, a mixture of a bird of prey and a large cat, its long tail lashing out behind it. It sized up the rider with sharp black eyes, shifting on its haunches as though to pounce. Death sprinted forward, dodging to the side as it’s beak snapped inches from his chest, flipping high over its head as it snapped at him again to land squarely on its back. The creature reared, trying to dislodge its unwanted passenger, but the Horseman held fast. Realizing immediately that it would not be able to shake him, the beast settled and allowed Death to guide it. _The White City trains its mounts well_ , he admitted, but only to himself.

“Seek out the Scribe most ancient,” the Archon told him as he led the beast to the edge of the Spire, “He still wanders the ruins. He can help you… end your quest.” The smile on the angels face was just a little too much like a smirk for Death’s liking, but he was not overly worried. If the Archon decided to try and destroy him when he returned with the key, the Horseman could very easily respond in kind.

With a tug on the harness the creature reared once more with a fierce cry, took one bounding leap, and flung itself into the air, its massive wings spread wide to catch the wind and carry the rider to the Ivory Citadel.

 

Finally free of the Horseman’s burning gaze, the girl allowed her legs to collapse beneath her. Realization of the past few minutes crashed into her, threatening to suffocate beneath the sheer gravity of the situation. Her body wracked with shivers, her breath coming in gasping nervous bursts as panic closed its iron claws around her chest. She tried to breathe deeply, in through her nose, out through her mouth, over and over again until her reeling thoughts started to slow. She closed her eyes, setting her forehead on her knees and let the sun warm and dry her damp skin. It was quiet here, almost overwhelmingly so after the demonic screams and crackling fires she had left on Earth.

She was so tired, but though her exhaustion and the warmth of the sunshine tugged enticingly, there was something that kept her on edge. That miasma that lingered on the edge of perception ran cold fingers down her spine, tendrils of black hate just waiting for her to let her guard down. She didn’t know what it was, but she knew she didn’t want it anywhere near her. So, when she felt it moving closer she felt her panic start to return. Her head snapped up as Dust spread his wings, hissing through an open beak. The cold malice rolled off the Archon like a bank of fog as he approached, huge in his ornate armor and wide wings.

“You there! Human!” the archangel barked, “Do not pretend that you can hide from me! Nothing escapes my sight!”

The girl scrambled unsteadily to her feet as Despair appeared between them, snorting threateningly and tossing its head. The Archon stopped, not wanting to come closer to those shape-edged hooves.

“Don’t come any closer!” she shouted, trying desperately to keep the tremble out of her voice. Her rifle had found its way into her shaking hands, but she very much doubted that it would help in this situation.

“Now girl,” he said, much softer, “I simply wish to make an inquiry.” The horse was not impressed by his attempts to placate it, dancing to and fro to make sure he could take so much as a step closer. And quite frankly, neither was the girl. She had to squint to make out the features of his face through the blinding light, and the alien sensation of an almost physical hatred coming from him was starting to make her head swim. As smooth as his voice was, the girl could feel it, boiling beneath the surface of his calm façade.

“I’d rather not,” she replied as evenly as she could, “my parents always warned me not to talk to strangers.”

“Why trust the Horseman?” the Archon pressed, ignoring her completely, “This Corruption spreads because of him! Why align yourself with a being that will only deliver you into further torment?”

“Look buddy, I really don’t know what you’re talking about,” she answered, “but I suggest you back off!” Despair reared at her words, hooves thrashing and forcing the Archon to step back.

The angel hissed, a sound that wasn’t the least bit angelic. “Once the Horseman has been dealt with, I shall free you of your illusion. Your suffering will end quickly, I promise you.”

Strangely, the girl was not comforted. She simply backed up further and let Death’s snorting steed bully the archangel into leaving.

The tide of oppressive malice receded with the Archon and the girl could finally breathe easier. Dust croaked from her shoulder in concern.

“Yeah, I’m fine,” she told him, unclenching her hands from around the barrel of the rifle and running them through her hair. “What did he mean by ‘dealt with’?” she pondered. Dust lifted his wings in a sort of shrug and the girl sighed. “Well, hopefully he’ll get back soon…”

 

“It was… chaos,” the Scribe sputtered, his fat neck caught in the scissor point between Death’s crossed blades. “Even the most noble among us abandoned his senses, and took up his sword. I happened to the Archon. It happened to me.”

“The Archon…” Death repeated softly, pulling the scythes from where they had the Scribe pinned to the wall. The obese angel slumped against the wall, defeated.

“It was that damned pool!” he snarled as he explained, “Their use was forbidden for a reason. Whatever vision he saw within rent his mind. The Corruption spread from him. He made this city a slaughterhouse, while professing his own purity!”

_The Archon, Corrupted?_ Death’s thoughts flashed back to the girl, the way she had faltered upon exiting the portal, her eyes wide with fear as she beheld the archangel. Had she somehow sensed it before the Horseman did? Death reached out with his thoughts, feeling for the feral mind of a certain crow and forging a thin mental link. As far as he could tell from the brief glimpse through Dust’s eyes, the girl was still in one piece. That was one worry off his mind at least.

“Eventually, the Archon fled to the Crystal Spire,” the Scribe was saying, “He took the key with him.”

Anger blazed in the Horseman’s eyes. It took all his willpower to not impale the Scribe on the end of his blade then and there, if only for something to take his frustration out on. But no, the Scribe was merely a puppet in a much larger orchestration. The malice in the Archon’s voice as he instructed Death suddenly made sense; he had sent the Horseman to the Ivory Citadel to meet his doom. Well, the Archon would find that it took much more than a few Corrupted angels to bring down one of the Four, and Death was through with being toyed with.

Death marched away, leaving the Scribe in his crumbling city and weaving his way back to where the angelic beast awaited his return. Anything that got in his way died quickly and brutally. None stood a chance against the Horseman’s wrath. Oh, but he was saving the worst of it for the Archon himself.

 

The girl wasn’t sure how long she had waited, only that she had finally, _finally_ , fallen asleep, lulled by the sunshine and the quiet and the knowledge that Dust and Despair would not allow the angel to come near her again. Still, her dreams were haunted by the agonized screams of friends and family as they were torn to pieces and scorched by fire. This time though, viscous black fluid dripped from their mouths as they whispered in malicious voices, all trying to stoke her anger at her loneliness and despair. Just as she was starting to believe them (yes, she was _angry_. How dare the demons run her from her home! How dare the Horseman take her away from her vengeance!) another voice shrieked, loud and piercing as an eagle’s cry, chasing away the phantoms and draining the anger away.

She woke with a start as the earth shook beneath her. Death’s enormous horse stood over her still, but now it pranced and whinnied in a ghostly wail. Looking between its legs, the girl saw the source of the quake; the angelic beast that Death had borrowed had landed heavily before the Archon, the Horseman himself sliding from its back. The Archon, who until that moment had been gazing deep into the pool and muttering to himself, turned to face him.

Death growled. “The key, Archon,” he said scathingly, pulling his scythes and setting his stance “I know you have it.”

The angel bristled, energy beginning to pop in starbursts around him. “It. Is. MINE!” he shouted, the light of his skin blazing. He looked away, fists clenched hard enough to grate the metal of his gauntlets. “Even though he wanted me to,” he ground out through clenched teeth, “I couldn’t destroy the key. Surely you understand, Horseman! I did what I had to do!” Death’s eyes drifted to the pool behind the angel, and the figure he could have sworn he saw before the image was banished.

“Opened the Well, protected the key from the questions they asked. And from you,” the Archon’s voice began to distort, warping into something monstrous as black tendrils slithered out around his arms and wings. Corruption bled from the edge of the angel’s hood as his eyes bore into the Horseman’s. “Only I may bear the key!” he cried, swinging the Rod of Arafel as it lit up, hurtling a great sphere of light toward Death who wasn’t quite fast enough.

The magic struck him square in the chest, throwing him up and out past the edge of the Spire. His body crashed through the chunks of floating rock that speckled the landscape before he tumbled to another large platform some distance away. He managed to land on his feet, but the momentum carried him nearly to the opposite edge as he dug in his fingers to slow himself.

Death was upright and back in fighting position before the Archon appeared in a flash, tendrils of Corruption sprouting around him as he slammed down.

“May the light of all that is holy destroy you!” the Archon screamed in a warped voice and launched himself at the Horseman.

Arcane forces sparked and danced across the platform, hurling stones the size of Death’s torso and waves of corruption across the battlefield. The Archon hovered above it all on outstretched wings, well beyond the reach of the Horseman’s blades. Or so he thought. A ghostly hand whipped from the dust created by the angel’s magic, latching onto his armor with an iron grip. A sharp tug threatened to pull him from the sky as Death came hurtling up to meet him as though he too boasted wings. The Horseman impacted against the Corrupted angel’s chest with the force of a cannonball and they both plummeted. Before the Archon could stop the fall, Death’s boot kicked down hard, turning his momentum into upward motion that forced the angel down all the faster. The Archon hit the ground in an explosion of dust and shards of stone and lay there, facedown and dazed.

Death landed lithely beside him, stomping brutally on the hand the Archon raised against him. In the next instant the Horseman’s form shifted into that of the huge skeletal being. The scythe in his hands flashed and the two larger wings fell from the back of the screaming angel. The form melted away in the next and Death poised with arms raised to deliver the finishing blow. The Archon’s recovery was swift, for once the Horseman drew close enough the end of the Rod slammed into the ground at his feet, Corrupted energies flinging him back out of reach.

“I fear no evil!” the enraged angel screamed, light blazing with furious intensity from his face. His magic redoubled and even Death himself was hard pressed to avoid the streams of the Archon’s attack. He ducked as razor-edged stones sailed overhead, keeping low to get close to the angel only to be pushed back by walls of Corruption that burst from the ground like geysers. Death growled, but he would not let his frustration get the better of him. Eventually the Archon would tire and then… there! The onslaught of magic ground to a halt, but it wasn’t because the angel had exhausted himself.

The Archon had begun to convulse, his back arching with a horrible squelching sound. Dripping tendrils of Corruption sprouted from the bloody stumps of his wings and knit together to create dark replacements. Once more the angel took to the skies, laughing madly as the Corruption twisted him further, and the arcane onslaught returned with renewed vigor.

Death, frankly, was getting tired of it. The key was so close and there was nothing but this mad angel standing in the way. The fact that the battle had even lasted this long in the first place frustrated him to no end. He knew that he was weakened, deprived of his full strength without the consent of the Charred Council at his back and that put him at a distinct disadvantage. He would have to finish this quickly.

When next the angel touched down, the Horseman threw himself around the magic and Corruption, taking no heed of the sharp edges and searing heat that bit at his skin. The twin scythes swung with ferocious strength and Death felt them slice through the plating of the Archon’s gauntlet before the angel disappeared in a flash before the Horseman could finish cutting him in half. He turned in time to see the angel reappear at the opposite end of the battlefield, and to see the Corrupted sphere of magic hurtling through the air toward him.

Death took off at a dead sprint, moving to the side just enough to allow the energy to whiz harmlessly past his head. The Archon was _not_ going to get away from him this time. The scythes flowed into one weapon as he ducked below another blow, bended his knees, and pushed off into a flying leap, raising the scythe over his head. It came down with a deafening clang, caught on the haft of the Rod, and for a moment Death paused, disbelieving at his own lack of strength. He caught the smile on the mad angel’s face just a bit too late as the Archon seemed to explode with light, tossing Death back like a ragdoll. Another flash and the angel was above, bearing down on the Horseman as he lay dazed.

 

From the vestibule of the Crystal Spire, the girl watched as the world shook with each clash between the Horseman and the angel. She could feel the air sizzling with the Archon’s potent magic and the vibrations in her chest with each impact. And, unless her eyes were deceiving her, Death wasn’t doing so well. It was odd, she thought. He had seemed so invincible when she first met him, shrugging off blows like flies and shredding through demons like some kind of living blender. But here… The Archon, twisted as he was by Corruption and greed and rage, proved a match for the Horseman.

_Squawk!_ Dust screeched in her ear and the girl jumped.

“AH! What?” she snapped. The bird seemed to glare at her. “What do you want from me? It’s not like _I_ can help with something like this!”

The ground shook again and when next the girl looked, the Archon loomed over Death, who lay suspiciously still in the center of the pitted platform. Dust cawed and took off, swooping away to circle above the battlefield.

The girl tugged at her hair. “Ooooh man. Oh man, oh man, of man!” The Archon’s threat echoed in her ears; if, somehow, the angel managed to take down the Horseman, she wouldn’t be far behind. She clung to the edge of the Spire, eyes darting from Death, to the Archon, to Dust wheeling overhead. Her brow furrowed, a hand rising to rest on the barrel of the rifle on her back. It wouldn't be much, but it was something. After all, she had a damn good view from the top of the Spire.

 

Death shook his head, clearing the stars from his eyes. The Archon’s magic could pack a punch; though he was loathe to admit it. It just meant that he was far weaker than he first thought. The world beneath him lurched as he tried to stand and the back of his neck prickled with gathering magic. Had he been able to recover even a little longer, he would have been able to easily avoid whatever the Archon threw at him, but that required time that he did not have.

_Bang!_ The building pressure was shattered by a sudden gunshot and the Archon faltered in the air with a grunt of pain.

“ _C’mon Big Guy!_ ” the girl’s voice reverberated over the air, clear as a bell in the silence after the shot, “ _You can take this prick!_ ”

The break in the Archon’s concentration didn’t last long. As Corruption filled the hole the bullet had left in his spine the angel’s magics gathered again. The earth rumbled as one of the great statues lining the platform cracked off at the base. Its immense shadow cast the platform into darkness as the Archon’s power lifted the huge stone. But by the time the statue was poised to fall and crush the Horseman, he was already moving. Death held out a hand and the enormous scythe materialized, the blade half buried into the ground. Grabbing hold with both hands, Death jumped to meet the stone as it fell toward him.

With a great crack the statue fell in two. Huge skeletal wings lifted the form of the Reaper from the dust, swinging the scythe and impaling the stunned angel on its curve. The Archon sputtered, a shaking hand gripping the blade where it protruded from his stomach before a savage jerk skewered him further still. His body went slack, insides eviscerated even as the great being swept the scythe around and threw him full force into the dirt in a fountain of blood that glowed black and gold. The body of the once great Archon, Corrupted by his hate and his greed, slid lifelessly over the edge of the platform and into the abyss below.

 


	9. Chapter 9

The girl was waiting for him, panting and grimacing with discomfort from her rapid limp from the top of the Spire. Despair stood beside her, an almost bored expression on the horse’s half-rotted face.

“H-hey,” she panted hands on her knees as she regained her breath, “you made it back.”

“And the Archon is no more,” Death said. The Angel Key sat proudly in his hand. “You’re still alright, I see.”

“Yeah, well, I’m no worse off than usual,” she replied. “That angel didn’t even get close thanks to your giant monster horse.”

Despair whickered, sounding almost offended.

“What about you? I mean, I was watching and it seemed like he was beating down on you pretty hard…” she trailed off as the Horseman stared coolly down at her as though daring her to finish her thought. She rubbed awkwardly at the back of her neck. “You know what, never mind. You’re obviously fine. Sorry I said anything.”

“The Archon was more of a challenge than I anticipated, it’s true,” he admitted, “The Corruption had already eaten away at him, twisted him into a its puppet. But, you already knew that, didn’t you?”

“’Corruption?’” she repeated, “Is that what I…” she felt a shiver trickle down her spine at the memory of the dark tide of hatred that rolled off the angel, the festering anger that whispered to her in her dream. She swallowed. “Yeah, I think I… felt it or something? I dunno, but whenever the angel got close, it was like something was trying to suffocate me.”

Death nodded. “Its as I thought. You are human, after all; a creature of emotion unlike angel or demons. The Corruption was born of rage and betrayal,” he added bitterly, “Its no wonder you could feel it.”

“It was trying to get to me, I think…”

“And it is something you must resist at all cost,” he told her, “it won’t do to have you lost to the darkness.”

“Why? ‘Cus then you can’t you use my ‘testimony’?” her fingers moved in little air quotes. “I was there when you said that remember? What exactly are you planning to do with me now that I’m here?”

“You’ll see soon, Little One. In the mean time we must be going. There’s someone I want you to meet.” Death pulled himself up into Despair’s saddle and held down a hand to help the girl up. Her lips thinned as she sized up the rider’s massive mount.

“Uuh, are you sure?” she said uncertainly.

“This is the fastest way. Unless you _really_ want to walk.”

She shifted uncomfortably on her wounded leg, her eyes flickering back and forth from the snorting horse to Death’s outstretched hand. Eventually she gave a little dissatisfied whine and grabbed the Horseman’s hand with both of hers. He lifted her easily into the saddle and let her sit in front of him. He spurred Despair into a steady trot and saw her hands turn to a white-knuckled grip on the saddle horn. He chuckled.

“Nervous, are we?” she snorted in reply.

“I’m a city girl, born and raised. The most I ever saw of wildlife was pigeons and the fat squirrels in Central Park.”

“This should be good for you then.”

“I beg to differ,” she grumbled under her breath as she tried futilely to make herself more comfortable. The way the beast rocked and jolted beneath her made the wounds in her leg twinge and she had to clench her jaw to keep her teeth from clacking together. She knew she probably owed the undead horse her life ( _that_ was a weird thing to admit) but she felt like she wasn’t going to be asking for another ride anytime soon.

“Where are we going anyway?” she asked, hoping to keep herself distracted from her discomfort.

“Look to the horizon. What do you see?”

She squinted into the distance, peering through the dust kicked up by Despair’s hooves. An enormous shape stretched into the sky, so tall it pierced the clouds; but it didn’t look like a mountain. “What is… Is that a tree?” she couldn’t quite believe it, but with the way the shape spread as it reached higher it could only be the branches of a monumental tree.

“It is the Tree of Life. It connects all realms throughout Creation. _That_ is where we’re going.”

“Holy shit,” the girl slumped in the saddle, running a hand through her hair. Washed of dirt and sweat the short brown locks had begun to curl as they dried. “This is crazy” she sighed, her head lowered, “I mean, I just shot an _angel_ for God’s sake.” She rubbed her face, her next words muffled by her fingers, “Ugh, I feel like I’m going insane.”

“If its any consolation, your aim isn’t that bad.”

She laughed a short breathy laugh. “I was aiming for his head actually. My hands were shaking.” She shook her head.

“I don’t think I’ve ever been more terrified.”

Death looked down at her. Her hands were quivering on the saddle horn. “You do realize that you’ve left the Earth behind right? Nothing will happen to you.”

“I don’t really think you’re getting it,” she said, “This all feels like some sort of twisted nightmare. Demons? Angels? Giant rotting horses and mountain sized trees? Nothing on Earth could have prepared me for this.” Her voice was on the edge of hysteria now. “I’m scared and hurt and in way over my head.”

Death almost sighed. “You’re probably right little one,” he told her, “You are a long way from home and things will only become stranger from here, so you might as well get used to it. It might be a while before you will see the Earth again, and it’s more than likely that it will not be the same. But, I will not allow you to come to any harm. You said that you trusted me and that trust will not go unfounded. You have my word that I will protect you as I would my own kin.” He even meant it to which was strange; such a promise was not one he would ever give lightly.

The girl sniffed, scrubbed at her eyes briefly before her head tilted back and she looked up at him. Her eyes glistened with unshed tears.

“Oh, I believe you. I believe you for some stupid goddamn reason. I just,” she dropped her head back and sighed, “I just feel like I’m lost.”

“I know the feeling all too well,” he said softly, “it is easy to feel lost when you’ve no home to go to. But I will return you to yours one day, I promise you that.”

She didn't answer as her shoulders began to gently shake with the force of stifled sobs. Droplets fell from her face onto her clenched hands below. Death said nothing, figuring that it was better letting her believe that her efforts to stay silent amounted to something. She would figure things out in her own time.

Eventually her sniffles petered out and she scrubbed at her face with an arm, taking deep, even breaths. For a while all she did was breath, measured and slow. He'd seen her do this before, when she was recovering from her nightmares. A grounding tactic perhaps, to remind herself of when and where she was.

Her relative calm restored, the girl tilted her head back until the top of it brushed against his chest, getting an upside-down view of his face. “Hey Big Guy,” she said, and he spared her a look down the end of his nose.

“Thank you.”

Death scoffed and looked away from the earnest look in her blotchy face. “Don’t thank me quite yet,” he warned her, “this is far from over.” She simply rolled her eyes at him and looked forward once more.

Death couldn’t quite get his head around her gratitude. She baffled him in ways that no one ever had before; innocent in spite of the blood on her hands, hopeful even though she despaired, and thankful when he had perhaps only dragged her into more danger. _Humans_ , he thought to himself, _such a strange race. Perhaps it is why they are so important to the Balance. In all of Creation, I’ve never met a creature quite like one._

The rest of the journey passed by in silence. The girl sought to distract herself from her thoughts with the passing scenery; after all, it wasn’t everyday that she got to go sightseeing in another world. Though honestly there wasn’t much to see. Outside of Lostlight this world was barren, suffused with soft light as the sunshine filtered through a layer of dust. Sometimes the shadow of an unnamed creature darted through the canyon rocks, but none dared to approach the rider’s ethereal steed. Beyond that the Tree dominated the view, growing impossibly tall, sprouting straight from the stone with roots as thick around as any building. It loomed over the pair, so huge that trying to look up at it made the girl dizzy with vertigo.

Death steered his mount beneath the shade of the great tree, making for a wide clearing set beneath the roots. He was waiting there, just like the Horseman had expected.

The spirit of the Crowfather watched with sharp eyes as Death approached. He had seen the girl sat before the Horseman and couldn’t say that he was surprised; of course few things were ever a surprise to the Keeper of Secrets.

“Hello Crowfather,” Death called casually as he reined in Despair before the Old One.

“Yes, yes, welcome back Horseman. And hello, Little One. I was wondering if you were going to make an appearance.” The girl started, her mouth dropping open.

“H-how did you-?”

“I know many things. Though I was unsure if what Death would do if he should find you,” the old man chuckled dryly, “I suppose this answers my question. Honestly Death, I wasn’t quite sure what would happen given your… track record with first impressions.”

Death grumbled as he slid from the saddle. “Save it, Crowfather. I have a request to make of you.”

The Crowfather’s eyes narrowed. “Oh? And what you have of me Horseman? I’m afraid there’s not much I can do in my… current state.” There was frost around the last two words. Death almost felt guilty. _Almost_. But he had thought this through long and hard as he wandered through the labyrinthine ruins of the Ivory Citadel and this was the best solution he could think of.

“The girl can accompany me no further. She must be looked after and at the moment you are the only one I can rely on to keep her safe.”

“Woah, woah. What?” the girl interjected from where she still sat on Despair’s back, “What happened to you promising to protect me?”

“That’s what I’m trying to do,” he growled. “Where I am going it is far too dangerous for you to follow, and it’s important for you to stay alive. Or are you really all that eager to face demons again?” she jerked back, flushing red to the ears. Her lip curled in a brief sneer but she said nothing.

“That’s what I thought,” he turned away. The Crowfather had watched the exchange with an amused glint to his eye. Death didn’t like it. “Well Crowfather? Will you take her back to the City of the Dead? Or do I need to handcuff her to you?”

A heated “Hey!” came from behind him, but he ignored it, keeping his full attention to stare down the Old One. The Crowfather seemed rather unimpressed, but he nodded his head in a slight bow.

“Yes Death, I will take her,” he said impatiently. “I can tell that you believe this is the only way and I must agree that it would do no good for her to continue with you. I will do my best to keep her from harm’s way.”

Death simply nodded in agreement, too proud to voice his thanks to the Old One.

“What, don’t I get a say in this?” the girl demanded, stubbornly refusing the hand that Death offered to help her down from the horse. Her leg threatened to buckle when she dropped to the ground, but she clenched her teeth and stayed standing. Death leaned down and gave her his most obstinate glare.

“No,” he said shortly, waving a hand to dismiss Despair, who vanished into the mist with a ghostly whinny.

“That’s it?! Not gonna give me a reason?”

“I already gave you my reasons girl. If you stay with me for too much longer you will get yourself killed. I’m fairly certain that neither of us want that.”

Her jaw twitched. She was angry about being left behind, but she knew the Horseman was probably right. She was only human after all. It was a miracle she’s gotten this far in the first place with a flesh wound and most of her sanity still intact. But damn if she didn’t feel like fighting after all that.

“So, what, you’re just gonna ditch me after everything that’s happened? How can I be sure that you’re not going to just leave me to rot?” she snapped, meeting his glare with one of her own.

Death gritted his teeth, thankful for once for the mask that hid his features. His patience was running thin. So very thin. He was so very close to his goal and there was nothing more than a stubborn little girl standing in his way. “You said that you trusted me, but I don’t quite think you know what it means,” he said sharply. “I could have just left you on Earth, but I didn’t. I could have let that demon choke the life out of you, but I didn’t. I could have let the Swarm pick the meat from your bones, _but I didn’t_. I’m _trying_ to keep you safe, but you and your stubborn pride are not letting me!”

The girl flinched at the razor edge of his voice, her sneer faltering and her eyes flashing briefly in fear. Death didn’t even care: if fear would get her to do as he said than so be it. She backed down, properly admonished.

Death breathed. “Are we done with this pointless conversation now?” she nodded once, stiffly, refusing to meet his gaze. “Then come with me. We still have a ways to go.”

She followed, limping still on a pain-stiffened leg. The Crowfather watched them go with great interest before he vanished, going back to await them within the City of the Dead.

“Another portal, huh?” the girl asked with quiet skepticism, eyeing up the giant frame that contained one of the Tree’s numerous gateways to other worlds.

“I’m afraid so,” Death answered her.

She made a little disgruntled noise and stepped next to him. She looked far from enthused.

“It gets easier, believe me,” he said, but she didn’t seem convinced. She simply snorted and gestured for him to go ahead. She held her breath as the weightlessness of teleportation drew her back into its depths.

 


	10. Chapter 10

The girl had to admit, it _was_ easier the second time, but the thought didn’t give her any comfort. She hated to think that she was getting _used_ to the feeling of drowning. She breathed deeply as the darkness receded from her vision, just barely holding back a gasp for breath. Death had already moved away from the portal without her, leaving her hobbling to catch up. She looked up as she passed beneath the thick ceiling of the Tree’s root and was dumbfounded to find that it no longer looked as it once did. No longer were its branches covered in lush leaves, and its trunk was a ghostly petrified gray. Its skeletal limbs reached into a bleak sky that lightly rained ashes onto an equally bleak landscape. ‘Dead’ was a good word for it. The entire world was painted in shades of gray, from the dark craggy cliff faces to the ash-covered hills.

“Ooh… this looks… fun…” she said uneasily as she came up beside the Horseman.

“This _is_ the Kingdom of the Dead,” he told her flatly, “What exactly were you expecting, a welcome party?”

“Well, _someone’s_ snippy,” she quipped, “Can we just go? We’re almost there right?”

“So ready to be rid of me, are we?” Death asked, folding his arms over his chest. “I hate to disappoint you but you’ll have to bear with me for a while longer. The City of the Dead lies a ways to the South and there are many obstacles in our way.” Death whistled sharply and Despair materialized from the mists between worlds. Once more, the Horseman pulled himself into the saddle, wordlessly offering a hand to the girl. Her face pinched in obvious discomfort, but took his hand nonetheless. He lifted her as though she weighed nothing.

She remained unusually quiet throughout the journey, lost in thought. Something was bothering her, that much was certain, but Death didn’t feel as though prying would help; she seemed angry enough with him as it was.

Even through The Breach, when Despair was sent away and she was forced to cling to his back, her cheeks bright pink with embarrassment, as he leapt over chasms and ran along the walls, the girl said nothing save to grumble and gripe.

“Alright girl,” he said at last, “this attitude of yours is getting _very_ old. What is bothering you so much? Last time I checked, you were just happy to be alive.”

“I’m fine,” she snapped as she slid from his back.

“You’re hardly convincing me girl. After all this you’ve done nothing but complain and I’ve become very tired of it.”

“I told you I’m fine, I’m just- I’m fine. Can we just go?” She tried to move past him but Death blocked her way.

“We’re not going anywhere until you’re finished with your little tantrum. Now what is your problem?”

The girl was reminded once again how huge the Horseman was compared to her. His frame loomed over her as he stared her down, burning ember eyes accusing, unrelenting. He was Death, and he would not be denied. She swallowed, feeling more intimidated than even the first time she met him.

“I-“ she stopped, swallowed again and took the tiniest of steps back if only to find some relief from his presence. “I-I just… don’t… want to be alone again…”

Death blinked. That actually wasn’t quite what he was expecting.

“You won’t be alone,” he said slowly, unsurely, “Sure, I wouldn’t exactly call the Crowfather decent company, but he will be there to ensure your safety.”

She shook her head. “That’s… not it. You’re… kind of the only person who can help me. What happens to me if you don’t come back?”

Death leaned back and saw her take a breath. “I will come back Little One. I don’t go back on my promises. The only thing standing in the way now is you. So I will ask you one more time. Do you trust me?”

A flurry of emotions battled for dominance across her face. He could see her urge to snap a cynical response, but knowing rationally that it would be a mistake. Eventually she closed her eyes, taking a deep breath.

“Alright, yeah, you’re right,” she said with a sigh. “You’re doing this for me and I’m not being fair. I do trust you, I really do. I guess this is just a lot for me to deal with.” She paused, eyes narrowing. “Why are you doing this for me? I know you said it’s to save your brother, but… you’ve put up with me more than you probably needed to.”

The Horseman thought for a moment. “I suppose… it is because you remind me of my siblings.” He could even say that it wasn’t a lie. Throughout their journey together, Death couldn’t help but to draw parallels between the girl and his own family. In her sharp tongue he saw Strife, in her raw determination there was Fury, and in her stubbornness there was War. It took him back. Back to a time when the Nephilim were new to Creation; before the hostility, before the genocide. Even Death’s brothers and sister were children once.

“My family comes before all else. I don’t mind adding another to that list.”

The girl’s lips pulled into a little smirk and she let out a snort. “That was really sappy,” she told him, shoulders shaking slightly with suppressed laughter. “Very sweet though. I’ll try to live up to it. And… I’m sorry I’ve been such a pain.”

Death shook his head. “Well… you’ve made things more interesting at least. I’m not going to be forgetting you anytime soon. Now come,” he gestured further into the darkness of the Breach, “We’re nearly at our journey’s end.”

“Let’s get going then. Humanity isn’t going to save itself.” She strode past him with as much dignity as possible with a limp, only for the Horseman to easily overtake her.

“What exactly do you mean by that? I’m the one doing all the work,” he growled.

“And I’m here to provide moral support! Don’t we make such a great team?”

“You make it so very difficult to continue enjoying your company.”

“You’d miss me if I was gone, admit it.”

 

The City of the Dead rose from the barren landscape like a tombstone. The girl felt a shiver crawl up her spine as they passed into its shadow.

“Woah…” she whispered, “The Crowfather couldn’t have picked a better place to live?”

“He’s not exactly ‘living’ anymore. Where else would the dead end up than here?”

“The Crowfather’s dead?” she leveled a glance at the Horseman. “Did you have anything to do with that by any chance Big Guy?”

“Why would you instantly assume I had anything to do with it?” he replied innocently.

Her eyes went from the skull-shaped mask, to the scythes at the Horseman’s sides, to the half-rotted horse they rode upon. “No reason.”

He ignored her. “He may be no more than a spirit now, but the Crowfather is strong, not to mention stubborn. He will ensure that you will remain safe.”

“I suppose anything’s better than waiting to get eaten by demons back on Earth. Let’s get this over with.”

She let him help her down from Despair’s back before the beast vanished, leaving the two of them to walk into the gloom of the city.

“So why here?” She asked, voice never rising beyond a paranoid whisper. “Why keep me here of all places.”

“The Dead Kingdom is a curious place,” he explained, though he didn’t bother to whisper; nothing here could hurt him anyway. “It exists on the dark side of the Tree of Life; the Tree of Death. It is here that the spirits of the dead go as they wait to enter the Well of Souls. The City purifies them, tests them, to see if they are strong enough to continue on. To them, this lasts an eternity, and a blink of an eye.” He pointed up and the girl followed his finger. High in the soot colored sky, a star blazed weakly down, its warmth never enough to breathe life into a dead land. Something about that star seemed especially strange to the girl.

“It hasn’t moved,” she muttered.

“Exactly,” The Horseman answered. “Time does not move here the way it does for other worlds, for time does not matter to the dead. So long as you are here, it won’t matter how long I’m gone.”

The groans of spirits accompanied them through the city streets. Every now and then the girl would catch a flicker of movement out of the corner of her eye, only to catch a glimpse of a transparent face staring at her from around a pillar. They were always gone before she could get a closer look. A small creature darted under her feet and the girl jumped with a squeak.

“Oh my god, please tell me we’re close,” she groaned. Death chuckled.

“After everything you’ve seen, that scared you?”

“I’m a bit on edge alright! I don’t exactly feel like I’m welcome here.”

“The dead are envious of the living. You have something they do not possess. So yes, you could say that they don’t want you here.”

“Comforting…”

“Worry not, they won’t touch you. They may be dead, but they are not so stupid as try while I’m here.”

The hall widened into an atrium where the floor fell away into the depths of the dead earth. The girl risked a peak over the edge to find the interior of the well shrouded in a thick mist. Death grabbed hold of her collar and dragged her away before she could get any closer.

“I wouldn’t if I were you,” he said, “The souls of your people were once trapped in that well.”

She grimaced, glancing back with a look of horror before following him. The Horseman led the way out of the massive chamber and into another one. This one, though not quite a large, opened up to overlook the Plains of the Dead and the ashen sky beyond. Well, the sky that wasn’t blotted out by a swarm of crows anyway.

The sound of their cries could be heard across the room. The crows had gathered loyally, impossibly, to flock to their master even from beyond the grave. The birds nesting in the arches and rafters turned their beady eyes to watch the pair as they approached the Crowfather. The Old One appeared like a giant crow himself in his cloak of feathers.

“Well, you took your time, didn’t you Horseman?” The Crowfather called. Death had to hold back an exasperated sigh. The Old One was nothing if not persistent. The Horseman wouldn’t have been surprised if when next he visited the Icy Veil, the old crone would be there on his throne, ready with a nasty look and biting response.

“I see the girl has survived the trip as well,” the Crowfather continued. “She may remain here in my care while you complete your quest.”

“Iiiiis it too late to change my mind about this?” the girl muttered from halfway behind Death’s back.

He turned and knelt, placing his hands on her shoulders, “This is the last I will ask of you Little One. I cannot risk your safety any further. You will be safe here until I return.”

She looked up at him. “I know, just- you will come back for me, right?”

“You have my word. I don’t know when I’ll be back, but I promise you that when I do, I will return you home. I won’t stop until your people have been restored, and my brother absolved of his crimes.”

She gave him a little melancholy smile, raising a tentative hand to grasp his wrist in a show of faith.

“I know you will.”

The Crowfather stepped up beside them. “The time has come, Death.”

“Chill out, Old Man,” the girl huffed, “for God’s sake we’re having a moment here.”

Death chuckled as the Crowfather’s face sank into a wrinkly scowl.

“He does have a point Little One. It is long past due for me to continue my quest.”

“Yeah, alright. Just make sure to come back Big Guy.”

Death simply nodded, turning to leave before looking back.

“You know, I don’t believe we’ve been properly introduced,” he held out a hand. “I am Death, Horseman of the Apocalypse.”

The girl snickered and shook her head. She clasped his hand in a firm grasp of her own. “Hi Death,” she said with a grin, “I’m Hope.”

 


	11. Epilogue

Time passed. Or it didn’t. Hope couldn’t really tell. The distant sun never moved from its position in the sky; she felt neither hunger nor fatigue; her wounds did not heal nor fester. It was as though she had been suspended.

The Crowfather answered whatever questions she had with an impatient tone. Eventually he taught her to talk to the crows, if only to give her someone else to bother. The birds weren’t much better company than their father, but at least there were a lot of them. They took to calling her “sister”, taking turns to perch on her shoulders.

Hope had been watching the sky, willing the cold sun to move when a familiar mangy crow swooped from the gloom and perched on her knee. Dust let out a morose croak. The Crowfather wasn’t far behind.

With a silent, knowing look, he handed her the mask. She ran trembling fingers across the deep scores in the bone, the eternally furrowed brows and the dark eye sockets. She blinked back the sting of tears from her eyes, curling around the mask.

“You bastard…” she hissed, “you promised you’d come back…”

Dust tapped the top of her head with his beak as though in consolation.

Hope felt the cold hand of the Crowfather on her shoulder. “Do not despair, Little One. The Horsemen are eternal. He will not go back on his word.”

She didn’t answer him.

 

It was getting harder to care. Hope was alone in an alien world with nothing but crows for company. Her home was nothing but a plain of ashes being devoured by demons. And now it seemed as though she was to be trapped in a timeless tomb along with the dead.

The Crowfather noticed the changes. She didn’t talk as much and spent most of her time looking out over the plains. Dust never left her side throughout. It was as though she were wilting the longer she stayed.

But then he saw it, through the eyes of one of his children. A great dragon fell, the blood of an angel was spilt and the seventh seal was shattered. All of Creation trembled as eon’s old rules bent for just a moment, just long enough for a single life to escape the void of the Well of Souls. The Crowfather was almost annoyed. Only the Horsemen would have the audacity to test with the laws of creation as much as they did.

But that meant that soon the balance would shift and the destiny of Creation itself would be decided.

 

Dust noticed them first. His head perked up, letting out a short squawk and flying off into the darkness. Hope, confused by what had the bird so excited, followed after.

Four figures, tall as giants, made their way through the gloom, radiating power and might before them. Clad in armor, their very steps shook the earth. Hope took a fearful step back as Dust swooped past, alighting on one of their shoulders with a delighted croak. Hope started. It couldn’t be…

“Hello again, Little One,” said the man leading the others. Though Hope did not recognize his face, there was no mistaking the voice; deep and rumbling as an open tomb.

For the first time in one hundred years, Hope smiled.

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> And now everything is here! I hope everyone enjoyed this and perhaps would like some more, cause I've got a few more things lined up!
> 
> Just as a point of reference, I took a few creative liberties with Darksiders Lore in order to make this work. Hopefully people won't get too pissed off about that. I needed somehow for Hope to stay out of things so that events play out in the end like they do in canon, which meant that she couldn't go with Death to the Well of Souls. She might be reckless and stubborn, but she's not stupid enough to believe that she could stay alive around him for much longer. So I took the route of letting the Crowfather babysit her for a little while. I feel like it's not too far of a stretch to say that the Land of the Dead would be time-static: The torturing of souls can feel like an eternity while only lasting so long. I dunno, what do you guys think?
> 
> I'm also speculating that the Horsemen would return for her after events that would probably happen in Darksiders 3: Final battle for Earth and all that jazz. Humanity would be fully restored and it would be safe for Hope to return home.
> 
> Wow, sorry for the thought-ramble down here. I just felt like it would be good to justify my reasoning behind some of the choices that I made. I hope you all enjoyed coming on this journey with me! And who knows, maybe you'll stick around for more!


End file.
